House Dorthonion
by Marty1
Summary: In the years following the invasion of the Scourge the families of House Dorthonion seek to redeem themselves and the Sin'dorei. Will they succeed or fall prey to the pitfalls of a corrupted world? Contains homosexual and hetero romances.
1. Home Coming

((Comment: Wow it's been forever since I've posted anything on . ;; But I just recently got back into ficcing, and remembered just how awesomely fun it is and what cool people you occasionally get the chance to "meet" and talk to. And I missed being part of an online community. :p So here's what I am into these days… WoW. Addictive and immensely entertaining that silly WoW. This is the first installment of a longer story that I've been writing for a while now and posting on y!Gallery. And then I thought, well as long as I am posting it there I might as well post it here, too! :O So yay. I love feedback, so if you have the time R/R… and never be shy about saying hello. My AIM is posted on my profile for a reason. 3 Marty))

Home Coming

Returning home had been all that he hoped for. Seized on the steps of what was left of the Stormcaller estate, Tavian had been drug like some prisoner of war through the halls. He now found himself down on his knees, head pushed forcibly almost to the floor. The beefy guards held his shoulders tightly. He tried not to resist, though his rogue's instincts told him to wriggle away and find some dark corner to disappear into.

"Well, well, the prodigal son returns." Tavian tried to look up at the familiar, arrogant drawl, but found his head pushed down painfully. He grit his teeth. "What in all of Azeroth could have prompted you to return here, little brother?"

"I came," Tavian ground out, "for father's funeral."

"Ah, that's right. The old man did die. And that makes me head of House Dorthonion. Did you think I would be a more lenient, that I would repeal his decision to bar you from the estate?"

Tavian stared stonily at the ground. "I had thought you might want to reunite the family, Zalmon. At least let me see Tashin before you throw me back to the Wretched."

Zalmon, who had been pacing lazily to and fro before Tavian stopped at this. "Tashin is ill," he growled. "First the Scourge, then mother's death, and now father's, his heart can hardly handle the strain. If you think for one moment that I would let you upset him further your wits have been as addled as your values by your time in the gutter."

Now Tavian wrenched his head up, defiantly looking Zalmon in the eye for a long moment before the guards pushed his head back down. "Keeping him locked up in his bed isn't going to help Tashin get better! And keeping us apart is only making things worse for him! He needs to get strong again, I can help him do that, Zalmon!" He was nearly screaming at this point. The more he thought about Tashin the more desperate he was to see him. It had been over a year since his father had found him dabbling in the skills of a rogue and had banished him from the estate when he refused to take up the mantle of a warlock. Over a year since he had seen his beloved twin. To be absent from him felt unnatural, and if it was difficult for Tavian to bear he could only imagine how much worse it was for his gentle, sensitive brother.

Zalmon grabbed a fistful of Tavian's hair now and wrenched his head up. Tavian winced as he met the severe gaze of his elder brother's pale, too-handsome face. "I will –not- let you upset him ever again. He is a good boy, and I won't have him falling along with you into the scum at your feet."

"You would rather destroy his soul with your dark magic? Do you think his heart could withstand the strain of being bound to demons?" Tavian spat, twisting in the grasp of the guards.

Zalmon curled his lip and released Tavian's hair so that he could reach his hand back to strike him squarely across the face. The force of the blow whipped Tavian's head to the side and for a moment everything was bright stars behind his eyes and loud silence in his ears. Then slowly out of the silence he could hear his name.

"Tavian?" it came tentatively at first, and then insistent. "Tavian?! Tavian!" Slowly, wincing Tavian turned his head towards the sound. His heart skipped a beat when he saw Tashin standing tentatively in the far doorway. He wore a gray silk robe, and it made his skin look terribly pale. His dark hair seemed dull, his frame too thin, but it was still gloriously his beautiful, beloved brother.

"Tashin!" he cried, now trying to get away from the guards in earnest.

He heard Zalmon swear under his breath. "Get him out of here," he growled.

"Tashin!" his voice began to become plaintive as the guards hauled him back.

"Stop, stop! Where are you taking him?" Tashin cried as he ran across the hall. He was intercepted by Zalmon, whose imposing frame blocked his way. "Zal, please… please let me see him."

"Tavian is no longer welcome in our father's house. We must uphold our father's wishes, Tashin, even in light of his death," Zalmon said, putting his arm around his young brother.

"Tashin!" Tavian cried again, struggling with the guards, but unable to break free. "I love you! I miss you! I… I…" he didn't know what else to say. He was ashamed to realize he was crying and tried to hide his face even as he struggled to break free and reach his twin.

Suddenly the great doors burst open. "What in the hells is all this racket about?!" a woman's voice, loud and commanding echoed through the hall. Everyone, even the guards froze, as a tall comely woman with thick auburn hair came into the hall covered head to toe in soot smudges, her dress ripped and burned away in places, revealing quite a lot of skin. She took one look at Zalmon and began stalking across the hall towards him. "Husband, darling," the words dripped from her lips like acid, "I believe I asked the household for quite this afternoon. Not only is it rather in bad taste for a house in mourning to be so raucous, but I have been practicing some rather difficult spells that involve fire. In the last five minutes I have been so distracted by all the noise that I turned one of my servant girls into a sheep and lit myself on fire."

Tavian could not help but raise an eyebrow. Husband? Since when had Zalmon taken a wife? And how had his miserable self convinced such a beauty to marry him? Tavian quickly realized it wasn't important. Her appearance had supplied him with the perfect distraction. All eyes had turned on the woman and he took advantage of it. Tavian wrenched himself forward, kicking one guard in the shin and landing his elbow in the solar plexus of the other. At the same moment, as Zalmon readied himself to reply sharply to his wife, Tashin slid out of his grasp and soon the twins were racing for each other, meeting in a fierce embrace and a combined cry of wordless joy.

"Tave… Tave," Tashin was practically sobbing. "I've been so worried about you. Zalmon kept saying that the Wretched had most likely eaten your life force and turned you into one of them."

"Zalmon is a ridiculous oaf," Tavian hissed in return. He felt Tashin starting to sag in his arms and let the weight of his body pull them both down to their knees. He pressed their foreheads together. They gazed at each other lovingly, tenderly touching one another's face.

The whole display made everyone in the room, including the guards, just slightly uncomfortable. It was Sorawen who finally leaned over to her husband and whispered, "Are they going to kiss?"

Zalmon scowled even more. "Don't be lewd."

Sorawen smirked. "I just know how vain you Stormcaller men are. If you ran into a copy of yourself I'm sure you'd be instantly in lust."

Zalmon raised an eyebrow, an expression coming over his face that suggested he finally saw something in a different light. "I suppose you're right. I never thought about it that way, dear heart."

Sorawen sighed. "I take it this is the return of your other little brother. I have to say he looks about 100 times better than Tash. I do hope he does some good for the poor boy."

"He's not returned, and I have no intention of letting him have anything to do with Tashin," Zalmon growled.

Sorawen arched in immaculate eyebrow. "You'd wrench them apart again? From the looks of it that really might just kill Tashin."

Zalmon scowled. "Why do you think I never wanted Tavian to come back here in the first place?"

Tashin clung onto Tavian. He could feel his heart beating wildly in his chest and took deep breaths of air, trying to calm himself. The pounding of his heart was becoming painful and the younger twin pressed his hand over his heart suddenly finding it hard to breath. "T-tave…" he gasped.

"Tash?" Tavian asked. "Tashin, what's wrong?"

"He's having a spell, you idiot, what do you think is wrong? Are you happy now?!" Zalmon bit out, walking swiftly to their sides. "You're presence is doing this to him."

Tavian scowled at Zalmon, holding Tashin close. "Only because you kept us apart for so long, and he knows you'll try to tear us apart again," he spat, reaching into his jerkin with one hand.

"Give him to me," Zalmon said.

"Not on your life," Tavian replied, curling his lip. He produced a vial with a purplish liquid in it from his shirt and expertly popped the stopper in it with his thumb. "Tash," he said softly, "I want you to drink this. It will make you feel better."

"He's not drinking anything that hasn't been approved by the house physicians!" Zalmon roared, making a grab for the vial, but Tashin had already pulled it to his lips. Tavian couldn't help but smile at the defiant glint in his beloved brother's eye as he swallowed the elixir down to the last drop. He took a startled breath, as if surprised that he could actually breathe again. He looked at Tavian as his breath steadily evened out and his hearth rhythm calmed to normal.

"What was that?" he asked, looking at the vial in his hand. "I feel… better than I have in weeks." He smiled tentatively at Tavian.

Tavian grinned rather proudly. "I've been learning alchemy. I worked for some time on that elixir, but be careful… it contains Bloodthistle. The herb contains amazing properties, but can also be very addictive."

"Are you trying to turn him into a slip-head?" Zalmon snarled.

"No," Tavian snapped. "I'm trying to make him better, not keep him bed ridden and dependent for the rest of his life because the 'house physicians' are too scared to try any real treatments lest they make a mistake and you have their families beheaded."

"Stop it!" Tashin cried. "Please, stop yelling at each other. Brothers, please…" he looked around plaintively his eyes falling on Sorawen. "Sora, do something about them."

She rolled her eyes, coming to stand by the group of them. Tavian could not help but look up at her and notice how truly beautiful she was. He smirked slyly. Zalmon's wife, eh? "What am I supposed to do?" she asked in exasperation. She waggled her finger at Zalmon. "Stop being a pig. See? It didn't work, he's still a pig."

"Sora…" Tashin said plaintively, but Tavian burst out laughing, he couldn't help himself. He was sure he was falling more and more in love with Zalmon's wife by the moment.

"And as for you," she pointed a long finger at Tavian. "You are filthy. You're not going to be seen in this household at your father's funeral looking like street trash." At that moment she seemed to realize how she herself appeared and with a tsk conjured herself into a fresh gown.

"He's not going to be seen in this household or at father's funeral at all!" Zalmon fumed.

Sorawen arched an eyebrow, and reached up to touch Zalmon's cheek, wiping a large swatch of soot across it. "Really? I think it's rather in bad taste not to have both of your brother's there. After all this is a time of rebuilding, how benevolent you will seem when you open your arms to your wayward little brother in this tragic time of reconstruction," she said with the fluidity of a born orator. "Besides… if I remember correctly you are still borrowing money from my father to rebuild the estate. And until such time as those debts are paid off, I think it is safe to say that I have just a bit more to say about what happens in these walls than you, dear husband," this was said with the grace of a politician.

Zalmon stared at her stonily, and then finally sighed. "For now and for Tashin's sake alone will I allow you to stay within these walls unmolested. But even the faintest whisper of trouble from you and I will toss you back to the Wretched."

Tavian had gotten to his feet, pulling Tashin up beside him. He wanted to do nothing more 

than be near to his twin, but once again Sorawen summoned him with a crooked finger.

"Come with me, Tavian," she said. He looked over at Tashin and before he could stop himself he kissed him quickly on the lips, taking only the tiniest moment to enjoy the startled look on Tashin's flushed face, and then followed after Sorawen with a smirk at Zalmon.

They walked in silence as she led the way through several hallways which were under construction and up a looping ramp to the second floor. Tavian knew the estate like the back of his hand and knew she was leading him towards the guest quarters.

"I'm surprised you even know who I am," he said at some length.

"How could I not? Tashin talks about you all the time," she answered shortly.

"Ah. I guess I'm just surprised since I had not received word that Zalmon had married."

Sorawen glanced over her shoulder with a look that said she did not appreciate Tavian fishing for information, but she spoke on anyway. "Yes, well it all happened rather quickly. House Dorthonion needed money, House Saralonde had lots of it, seeing as the estate was built outside the city, but needed some higher class connections… not to mention some way of keeping their headstrong daughter out of trouble. Obviously a match made in political heaven."

"So you do not love my brother?" Tavian said, moving closer to her.

"What's to love? Other than his face of course. I don't suppose I could have asked for a more attractive husband, but self-centered arrogance tends to cool that fire after a bit."

Tavian put his hands on her hips, turning her around, sliding his hand suggestively to the small of her back. "I have a feeling your fire in anything but cool, lady Sorawen."

She returned his sultry gaze and he smirked as he felt her hand move over the crotch of his pants. No one can resist the rogue, he thought. It took him a moment to realize that her touch was becoming increasingly and quite uncomfortably cold. "Just remember, Master Tavian," she said softly into his ear. "That the next time you touch me without my permission I can and will quite literally put your manhood in an ice block."

Tavian could hear the tinkling sound of magically conjured ice forming on Sorawen's fingers and he released her, taking one large step back. "My apologies, Lady."

She gave him the shallowest of nods and then turned around, beckoning him with a hand again.

"You know," he said after a moment. "Tash and I have always shared a room. It's quite unnecessary to put me up in the guest quarters."

Sorawen snorted. "Believe me you don't want to stay in that mausoleum. The 'house physicians' have decreed that sunlight and 'contagions' from the city air could be most grievously detrimental to your little brother's health. As a result the windows have all be shuttered up and the blinds haven't been open in months. I think they're all secretly just waiting for him to die so that none of them can be held accountable for his health any longer. If any one of them had any common sense they would see that there is nothing 

wrong with your brother that some decent rest, fresh air, and a reason to live wouldn't cure. I have suggested numerous times that he go stay at the Stillwater Estate in the Eversong Woods, but no. 'What about the trolls?' 'What about the zombies?' 'He could catch the plague!'" she sing-songed in a mocking voice. "Two weeks in the woods with my sisters and he'd be cured of all but the occasional heart palpitation." She snarled as she conjured a key out of the air and unlocked one of the large doors, pushing it open with a creak.

Stepping into the dusty, closed up guest room Tavian regarded Sorawen carefully. "You seem to genuinely care about Tash."

She laughed as she pulled the heavy drapes wide, flooding the room with golden-red light. "Well as far as I can tell he's the only decent man in the entire Stormcaller family. I had high hopes for you the way Tashin was always going on about you, but I think you're quite a bit more like Zalmon that I can really appreciate."

Tavian gave her a stony look. "Don't ever compare me to my elder brother. I'm nothing like him."

She gave him an acid smile. "No? Vain, promiscuous, self-righteous, arrogant… tell me if I miss anything. Although I must say that you do at least have the capacity to truly care for another. Your little scene with Tashin was quite touching… then again… I have to wonder how much of that is really just because in some twisted way you see him as just an extension of yourself. Narcissistic, yes there's one I missed earlier."

Tavian took a deep breath, clenching his fists. He was angry, but not because of the mocking tone in her voice, but because there was truth to her words. "I stand humbled, Lady."

She smiled and nodded. "Yes… I have that effect on a lot of people. Now, arms out at your side." She twirled her finger and was suddenly holding a measuring tape.

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to take your measurements, silly boy. I could just use Tashin's, but I'm afraid he is quite a bit thinner than you at this moment."

Tavian scoffed. "Are you calling me fat?"

"No, I'm calling your brother malnourished."

She ran her delicate hands over his body as she moved the measuring tape. There was nothing overtly sensual about the process, but Tavian could not help but shiver though in truth his mind continued to return to Tashin and the feel of him in his arms.

"I only stood up for you for his sake," she said taking his inseam. "I don't give one whit about whether or not Zalmon wants to excommunicate you from the family for being a rogue."

"Technically I've already been excommunicated from the family for being a rogue."

"Whatever. I just want you to know that if your being here does not help him, if he does get worse because of you, I have no qualms with tossing you out myself," she said, snapping her fingers as the measuring tape disappeared. "All done." She walked to the door.

"He will get better," Tavian said, halting Sorawen in her tracks. She looked back over her shoulder. Tavian gave her a roguish smile. "He needs me."


	2. Mourning

((Comment: And here is chapter two in which we meet a couple new characters. Not really much to say except that I really enjoyed writing this chapter… sexual tension ftw. XD Stay tuned. There is more where this came from. R&R if you have the time. :3 ))

Mourning?

"You look amazing in House dress again."

The soft sound of Tashin's voice so close to his ear sent a shiver down Tavian's spine and out through his limbs. He looked up from the chair where he'd been lounging with a book, mouth slightly open, eyes slightly wide. Tashin's breath tickled his neck as he leaned over his shoulder, and Tavian had to swallow. Flipping the book shut he reached up to drag his fingertips through the ends of his twin's long hair. "As do you."

And it was true. Tashin, though his face was still somewhat gaunt, looked much improved from when Tavian had first seen him. His skin had regained color, his dark hair some of its old luster, and he nearly always smiled, something Sorawen had confided in Tavian she had not seen him do in a long time. In the two weeks since Tavian had returned home he'd made it his personal mission to see Tashin's health restored. With Sorawen's help he'd opened up Tashin' stuffy room, thrown the curtains and windows wides, drug his brother around the garden daily, and had it out with most of the house physicians, some of which had stormed off the estate vowing never to return. Which was fine with Tavian. They were a useless lot, all sniveling and scraping to Zalmon, complacent to keep Tashin as dependent on them as possible. To his surprise Zalmon had not tried to interfere, and it rankled Tavian to have to admit that Zalmon cared about Tashin enough to bite his tongue when it was obvious Tavian's methods were improving him.

Tashin had always been what their mother called "fragile". Birth was always a complicated and dangerous thing, and the birth of twins was doubly so. Tavian's birth had gone well enough, but whether it was because Sarissa Stormcaller was exhausted by the time Tashin's turn came or something else had gone wrong Tashin's entrance into the world had not gone as smoothly. The complications took their toll on both mother and child, manifesting in Sarissa a pale sickliness that followed her until her death a mere decade later and in Tashin a weak and troublesome heart that was at turns no more troublesome than the occasional dizzy spell and severe enough to leave him bedridden for weeks.

They looked at each other for a long moment, Tavian's gaze open and intense, his fingers tightening slowly in Tashin's hair until the younger twin colored suddenly and looked away, drawing himself up. Tavian's hand dropped back to his lap, resting on the closed cover of his book. His eyes followed Tashin. "Have you been taking that elixir?"

Tashin nodded, moving to the large windows that looked down the grassy slope towards Dawning Square. "It's helped a lot."

"No ill effects?" Tavian asked, getting to his feet and following his brother to the window. The library in which they stood was circular and highly domed, the ceiling gilt and filigreed with 

gold. Part of it had collapsed during the invasion of the Scourge, and now supportive scaffolding was holding it up where it had been partly reconstructed. At least most of the books had been saved. His father probably would have died on the spot had the library truly been damaged. The thought of Andorian Stormcaller made Tavian sigh, rubbing his temples. The funeral was to be held that evening, and as far as Tavian was concerned it couldn't come fast enough.

"No… sometimes I feel a bit jittery after taking it, but it wears off after a bit. I'm just happy to feel as if I have some strength again. It's all thanks to you," he said thoughtfully.

"Anything for you, dear brother," Tavian murmured wrapping his arms around Tashin's middle and pulling him tightly back against him.

Tashin gasped, his hands coming up as if to push Tavian's arms away, but they faltered as Tavian's lips brushed the edge of his ear. "Zalmon will be upset if-"

"I don't care what Zalmon thinks," Tavian growled.

"What about what I think?" Tashin asked, pulling forward slightly.

Tavian loosened his grasp, but did not let his twin go. "Am I upsetting you?" As he asked he kissed the back of Tashin's neck.

The younger twin made a small noise of distress as his skin flushed again, growing warm beneath Tavian's touch. "It's not that, it's just-" he gasped and pulled away completely as Tavian nipped the back of his neck. He turned around, his hand going to cover the place on his neck that was tingling fiercely. "Stop it! Wipe that grin off your face, Tave! Zalmon will take any excuse to throw you out again, and I won't be able to take it! So despite what you want you have to care what he thinks."

Tavian sobered slightly at Tashin's words, sighing softly. "I won't let that happen. I will never leave you again." He reached out to pull Tashin back to him, pressing their foreheads together as Tashin's hands came to rest on his shoulders.

"If Zalmon orders you out…"

"I will find a way to stay near to you."

Tashin looked deeply into his twin's eyes. "Or I will find a way to be near you…"

Tavian's arched brows drew together as he tried to make absolutely sure he understood what his twin was trying to say. "Tash… I don't think you'd want-"

There was a sound from the grounds below. Tashin pulled away, looking back over his shoulder and out the window. "The Lightweaver family is here. I guess I should be glad. As long as Kiril is here you'll have him to molest, and I won't need to worry."

Tavian balked. "I don't know what you mean."

Tashin turned towards the window, but gave Tavian a sly look over his shoulder. "I know he visited you when you were…"

"In the gutter?" Tavian offered.

"Wherever you were. Regardless, I know he was with you. It's alright; it's one of the few things that brought me comfort. I knew he'd do what he could to keep you safe."

"It wasn't that bad, Tash. I had a kind of family there… I learned a lot from anyone who would teach me. There are more of us than you know that have nowhere else to go. The worst part was being kept from you," he said softly drawing the tips of his fingers up the inside of Tashin's arm.

The younger twin giggled, pulling away and twisting towards the door. "That tickles. Come on, we should go greet 'the cousins'."

The Lightweavers, one of the four noble families of greater House Dorthonion, were distant cousins to the Stormcallers. But it was at this distant blood relation and their mutual high standing in the nobility that the similarities between the two families ended. The Stormcallers had long followed in the tradition of demon mastery and the arcane arts. Severe, dark haired, and arrogant Zalmon epitomized the characteristics associated with the Stormcallers. The Lightweavers on the other hand appeared more refined, were simply aloof more than arrogant, and characteristically had fine golden hair. They had been one of the first Quel'dorei families to learn the disciplined arts of the paladin from the once allied and now fallen kingdom of men, Lordaeron. The family was small now and in decline with only two children. The elder was their daughter, Aeltha, now married to the head of House Saer'ilis, Maeglin Dayspark, with whom she shared a deep mutual respect, but no love or children. She was old enough to have studied in Lordaeron herself, and still considered herself a follower of the Light despite having to follow the way of the Blood Knight. The younger was their much-younger son, Kiril, who was near in age to Tavian and Tashin, and considered to be as much of a black sheep among his own family as Tavian was in his. The fact that his hair was as a fiery orange-red rather than gold didn't help matters. Slated from birth to follow the paladin's path as his sister had, Kiril had proven somewhat unfit for the role. The details around the incident were purposefully kept hazy, and little was known of what had actually transpired that led to Aeltha "fetching" him home from Kalimdor save that she had and that Kiril had subsequently been installed in the priesthood where he now seemed happy enough to serve the Light and not cause his family any more trouble.

As they descended into the entry hall Tavian hung back as Tashin went forward eagerly to greet their distant relations. Tavian nodded and bowed appropriately from where he stood with his back against the wall, making brief, uncomfortable eye contact with Aeltha, who was as usual without her husband. For his benefit she placed a protective hand on the small of Kiril's back before nodding and propelling the young priest in his direction.

Kiril raised an eyebrow, his smile quirking lopsidedly as he moved away from the others towards Tavian. He held out his hand. "I see you've made it home, Tave."

Tavian looked up at the young priest, still leaning against the wall. He was slightly taller than the dark-haired rogue, and dressed in formal priestly garb, a long white robe with blue embellishment. Kiril's face wore the good-humored mask it always did. His boyishly handsome features were familiar and welcome, his long orange-red hair tucked up beneath a loud red and gold cap. They clasped hands, both calloused from the familiar use of weapons. They shared a wry smile. "Most likely just until the funeral and mourning are over. I think that's about as long as I can stand being in Zalmon's house."

Kiril glanced over his shoulder towards Tashin who was accepting congratulations on his improved health. "And Tashin?" he said, his voice low.

Tavian followed Kiril's gaze. His pulse did a funny little dance at the sight of his twin smiling with the others and he felt his chest squeeze. "For him I'd stay, but I may not have to."

Kiril turned back, again with the raised eyebrow. "I'm getting you drunk later."

Tavian laughed out loud, the sound of which drew Tashin's startled attention. "I'm counting on it." Then with a wry smile he reached up and snatched the hat off of Kiril's head, sending his long hair falling down around his face and shoulders. "And where on earth did you get this hideous thing?"

Kiril laughed, snatching it back as he brushed his hair back over one shoulder. "I stole it from a dead bitch named Whitemane, one of those crazy Scarlet Crusade fanatics. And it's not a 'thing', it's a chapeau."

Tavian looked at Kiril wide-eyed. "You've been to Lordaeron since the Plague?"

Kiril took the chapeau back from Tavian, smoothing it and righting it's crumpled corners. He nodded soberly and gave an ironic smile. "Yes, haven't you heard that we're courting the Horde's favor? The thing that Sylvanas Windrunner has become is leading the Forsaken from the ruins of the city."

Tavian nodded slowly. "I've spent some time in the Ghost Land since we last met. I know there are Forsaken there now, but I didn't realize... I'm afraid the focus of my world is bit narrow at the moment."

"Yes, well I've been all over the continent in the last half year for one reason or another. It would seem that priests are needed everywhere these days." Here he gave a sardonic little laugh. "I even returned to Kalimdor for a time."

"Does Aeltha know?" Tavian asked, his voice hushed as he stepped closer to his distant cousin.  


Kiril nodded. "She's done her own fair share of 'adventuring'. Mostly I think it's just to get away from Maeglin, but she's been restless since..." Kiril's voice trailed off as he glanced back at his sister.

Tavian followed his gaze again and nodded. "She seems to have regained much of her powers."

"Yes. She hates the Blood Knights, but she's willing to do whatever it takes to regain the Light. Not that I can blame her."

Tavian snorted. "You almost look and sound like a real priest."

Kiril gave him a funny look. "And what exactly else would I be?"

Tavian shook his head, his eyes shifting to Tashin who was now sidling up next to Kiril. Kiril's attention shifted to him immediately as he threw an arm around his narrow shoulders. "Light bless me if it isn't the little sickling looking nearly as good as new," he said fondly.

Tashin giggled and lightly returned the embrace. "Hello Kiril. I have to wonder what you and my wayward brother are whispering about over here." He gave Tavian a long look.

"Scandalous things that your pure heart need not be burdened with," Kiril replied. He placed the chapeau on Tashin's head and gave it a little squish, pushing it down over his eyes.

"You children are making me nervous," Sorawen's voice broke in as she came up behind Kiril and Tashin, giving them both a little push towards the doorway where the rest of the members of the House had disappeared. "I want all three of you where I can keep my eyes on you. The last thing we need is some incident on the day of your father's funeral."

"Mistress Stormcaller, I am a man of the cloth! I would never cause trouble for my family," Kiril said affecting hurt.

"Hm," she said, reaching out to steer Tavian towards the door as well. "The only one of you I trust is Tashin, and even then I don't trust you two not to influence him. Now go sit quietly until the rest of the House arrives."

"Yes, Mistress Stormcaller," Tavian said demurely, giving her a sly smile and a wink before taking Tashin by the hand and leading him after the others.

The funeral went as well as could be expected. The four main families of House Dorthonion had 

all made at least token efforts to represent themselves. As head of the House Andorian Stormcaller had not been well liked among the families, even his own sons had not cared for him overly well. It was a common sense that Zalmon would be no better liked. His strutting and superfluous speech making at the funeral did not help to qualm this feeling. He affected so much emotion that Tavian could barely keep from laughing out loud, and even his well behaved twin had to look down into his lap with lips pursed more than once. The feast that followed was well attended and even better stocked with food and wine. Even if it was a bit over the top, Tavian had to admit that Zalmon had gone out of his way to make a good show of their father's passing. About halfway through the meal Kiril leaned in between the twins, resting his chin on Tavian's shoulder. "Might I borrow you two for a moment?"

The twins' gazes shifted to Zalmon at the head of the table who gave them a dismissive wave of his hand that said "I'd rather not have you in my sight in any case." Only too eagerly they rose, chairs scraping on the floor of the dining hall and followed the priest out into the garden where he settled them beneath a large tree that looked, like much else on the Stormcaller estate, a bit worse for wear. From behind the tree the priest produced a sack and from that several unmarked glass bottles which he passed around.  
Tashin took his bottle warily, eyeing Kiril. "What's this?"

"A very old and distinguished minting of Pupbelly Verbose. I got it from a gnome in Booty Bay," he said with a cheeky grin.

Tashin leaned forward, eyes wide. "You've been to Booty Bay?!"

Kiril leaned cooly back against the tree and nodded. "Oh yes. I could tell you stories, but I won't, because what happens in Booty Bay, stays in Booty Bay."

Tavian chuckled as he opened his bottle, taking a swig. "I can imagine." Tashin gave him a scandalized look and then eyed his bottle. "Here let me get it for you," Tavian said, reaching around Tashin to take his bottle and taking advantage of the moment to pull his twin back against him. Tashin made an indignant sound, but then let his head rest back against Tavian's shoulder. He took a tentative sip of the Verbose, and wrinkled his nose.

"This is strong," he said.

"Just drink it slowly," Kiril responded.

The three of them sat for some time drinking and talking about the things that young men talk about. Mostly Tavian and Kiril chatted about politics, the reconstruction of the city, the Scourge, the Wretched, the few reports Kiril had heard about Outland to where Pirnce Kael'thas had 

disappeared to supposedly secure the destiny of their people. They were just about to embark on the topic of the Draenei who had supposedly already made contact with the Kaldorei when Tashin stirred against Tavian's chest.

"I'm sleepy," he slurred, starting to pull away. Tavian looked down to see Tashin's bottle empty on the ground the dark blue glass reflecting the light of the stars.

"I thought you were going to drink that slowly, Tash," he said, letting his twin go as he jerked to the side and lay down on the ground, curling around himself.

"I was..." he said softly, his voice continuing to slur. "But then... I had nothin' to do but drink it cause you two were talkin' so mush."

"Ah," Tavian said with a smile to Kiril. The two peered at Tashin as he used his hands for a pillow and fell asleep on the spot. They chuckled to each other as they leaned back against the tree each taking a swig from their bottle.

"If I was really nice I'd make things easy for you and offer to leave," Kiril said around a grin and a swallow.

Tavian shot him a sidelong glance and a frown tugged at the corners of his mouth. "I wouldn't do anything to betray Tash's trust." He looked over at his sleeping twin, his eyes softening. "I'll wait."

"Forever? He just might make you."

Tavian scowled and looked back at Kiril defensively, taking another swig. "As long as I have to," he snapped. "Besides, don't you think it's a little lewd for a priest to be encouraging such 'uncouth' things. I've heard it's not exactly considered moral, this longing in my heart." He sulked back against the tree some more.

Kiril stared at him a moment, mouth agape and then let out a hearty laugh. "Feeling melodramatic tonight are we? As I recall this happened the last time I got you drunk. Of course a lot happened that night..." He gave Tavian a cheeky wink.

Tavian continued to sulk, though he couldn't quite keep his lips from quirking up at the corners. "I was miserable, desperate, and in despair. I take no responsibility for my actions that night."

"That's too bad, because they were quite skillful. I have to admit I was impressed."

Tavian blushed in spite of himself and this time could not hide his smile. "Shut up." He sighed. "Maybe I should leave again, and soon. I'm afraid of what I'm capable of putting him through. His heart..."

Kiril ran his long fingers through his red hair. "Tashin's heart needs you. All I know is that if you truly love Tashin then you must do so without apology to him, yourself, or anyone else. Love has nothing to do with morality. It has little to do with anything actually other than itself. Even if he feels the same he will never follow your lead unless he is certain you will not forsake him. How can others accept your love if you yourself cannot?" Kiril gave Tavian his sagest look over the top of his bottle.

Tavian gave him a flat look. "Did becoming a priest make you instantly wise?"

Kiril laughed musically, tipping his head back. "No, but the path to it helped."

Tavian mulled over Kiril's words for a few moments, sipping at his Verbose. He gave Kiril a couple sidelong glances which were returned with a raised eyebrow. Finally Tavian spoke. "When you were in training to be a paladin... what happened in Kalimdor, really?"

Kiril covered his surprise with a long swallow of his drink. He looked sideways at Tavian with piercing eyes.

"When you returned you were different. Even before I was banished from the House I could see it. And when you came to see me... you were as miserable as I was," he pressed. "What happened?"

"I don't talk about that time, Tavian," Kiril said with a shrug and a sigh.

"Not even to me? We've always shared each other's secrets," Tavian pressed. "We've shared more than that."

Kiril gave him a long look.

"The short version. Just give me the short version," Tavian insisted, his voice slightly pleading.

Kiril took another drink. "The short version, eh?"

"You went to Theramore to study and then..." Tavian urged.

"And then I left Theramore."  


"Why?"

Kiril sighed. "You said short version."

Now it was Tavian's turn to sigh. "Alright, so short version you left Theramore and went... where?"

"North."

"To where? Orgrimmar? We weren't even on good terms with the orcs then."

Kiril gave a derisive little laugh and took another swig hitching his thumb upward. "Farther north."

Tavian looked confused for a moment. "But the only thing father north of Durotar is..." his voice faded out. Kiril took another swig, Tavian leaned forward, mouth open. "You went to the lands of the Kaldorei?!"

Kiril nodded, rubbing his head. "I did. I don't really know why... I was stupidly curious I suppose," he sighed and leaned back, letting the bottle dangle in his hands between his knees. "The forests were beautiful there, but I suppose they'd have to be with so many tending them." His eyes grew distant and he looked up at the stars. "Anyway, short version. I met a druid, and after a time I was convinced that I loved him and that I did not want to return to what was left of Quel'Thalas. Knowing that my family would look for me once they received word of my absence from Theramore I - we - sought refuge in Moonglade, and found it for a time. Those followers of Cenarius are very neutral minded, you know. Of course that changed when Aeltha came to fetch me. Can you imagine the horror in which my mother and father contemplated the dishonor to the family and dispatched her to bring me home?" Kiril licked his lips as if savoring something sweet. "Whatever she said to the druids they handed me over almost immediately, and to be honest the tongue lashing I received from her myself made me so ashamed I willingly followed her all the way home like a kicked puppy." He closed his eyes and for the first time that night his good-humored mask slipped, and Tavian could see the darkness that lay beneath; sadness, longing, and no small amount of self-loathing. He took a deep breath and then turned to face Tavian. "And that is why you cannot be ashamed of what you love. Emotion is not enough, it must have conviction, Tave. Emotion without conviction is often called regret."

Tavian thought about this for a moment, looking down into his lap. They each were silent with their thoughts, each took a drink. After a moment Tavian said seriously. "Still... I can't believe you fucked a Kaldorei." He couldn't hold his serious face and began to chuckle in tandem with 

Kiril around the lips of their bottles.

The red-haired priest snorted. "I know, right?"

"Was it hot?"

"Oh yeah," Kiril took a swallow, "very." They looked at each other, eyes sparkling, and continued into their downward spiral of drunken giggles. After a few moments they tapered off and Tavian looked down into his bottle, swirling the last swallow around before setting it aside. He looked over at Tashin who was still asleep on the ground, legs pulled up to his chest, snoring softly. He reached out to touch his leg.

"I could never do anything to hurt him," he said softly.

"Yet you plan to leave again."

"I think he would come with me."

"You'd want that?"

"I could keep him safe, and it would be better for him than letting Zalmon keep him shut away," Tavian said between gritted teeth.

"He could disown you both," Kiril said, his voice measured.

"What does it matter?" Tavian mused, moving now to crawl to Tashin's side, gently brushing hair from his face. "Our entire race has been disowned. There are more of us living in the streets or in hovels or worse yet as Wretched than there are those of us still entitled to land and estate. The Quel'dorei were in decline even before the invasion; I can't help but feel that the Sindorei will only continue to follow the trend. Changing our name does not change our fate." As he said this he traced Tashin's face reverently.

The younger twin stirred and turned onto his back, rubbing at his eyes. He stretched out his legs inadvertently pushing them through Tavian's. The dark-haired rogue froze as he watched Tashin slowly wake, green-tinted eyes fluttering open to gaze up at him blearily. "Tave?"

"Yes, it's me-" his words were cut short as Tashin's hands found his hair, yanking it sharply to bring Tavian's face to his own, meeting him in an open-mouthed kiss. Tavian's heart nearly stopped. For a moment his brain could not sort out what was happening and he froze, eyes wide as Tashin's taste and smell began to fill his senses. Tashin's body arched towards his, legs 

tangling more heavily with his own. And just as his eyes fell closed, brows drawing together in a mixture of ecstasy and torment and he began to move into the kiss, accepting that it was genuine, it was over. Tashin's head dropped back to the ground and he went limp, asleep once more. Heart hammering, panting slighting Tavian stared down at his brother with wide eyes. It wasn't until he noticed the thin line of saliva still between their lips that he rocked back, self-consciously wiping his hand across his mouth. Shaking slightly he looked over his shoulder at Kiril who was regarding him with wide eyes. "He's drunk," Tavian breathed lamely.

Kiril's lips twitched up in one corner. "So are you. And for that matter so am I. You should go to bed. We should all go to bed."

Tavian nodded. He was not used to feeling flustered or thrown off, but he had never kissed Tashin like that before. More importantly Tashin had never kissed him like that before. Pecks, nips, innuendos... that was as close to showing his feelings as he had ever gotten. But Tashin had said his name, he had known it was him not some left over dream partner. He must have. Tashin had kissed him, and even if he was drunk and half asleep and would never remember this moment in a million years it didn't matter to Tavian, because no matter what somewhere beneath it all Tashin had kissed him like that. Wanted to kiss him like that.

Taking a couple deep breaths he settled his nerves before leaning over Tashin again and gently shaking him. "Tash wake up. We need to get to bed," he said, his voice gruffer than he expected.

Tashin came awake again with a little gasp and sat partway up. "Wha? Where are we?"

"The garden. You fell asleep, remember?" Tavian said getting to his feet and offering his hand to Tashin to haul him up as well.

Tashin looked at his brother's hand for a moment and then blinked. He brought his fingers to his lips and then looked up at Tavian with thoughtful, if still inebriated eyes. "Yes, I remember now," he said reaching for Tavian's hand, getting awkwardly to his feet, leaning heavily against his older twin. With a nod to Kiril and an awkward smile Tavian began the arduous task of leading his brother back to his room. The estate was dark and silent, and Tavian was surprised that no one had come to look for them. The rest of the funeral party was probably as drunk as they were, he mused. With each stumble and catch Tavian was painfully aware of the warmth and closeness of Tashin's body which continued to bump against and cling to him at turns. By the time they reached Tashin's room Tashin was babbling.

"T-tave, I want to tell you something," he slurred twisting around in his brother's grasp now stumbling backwards towards his bed. He hiccuped, the act of which made him grab onto 

Tavian's shirt and giggle. "Cause stuff has been happing, you know?"

Tavian put his hands over Tashin's intending to pry them off and steer him to bed. "Tashin I think you should go to sleep now," he said, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

"Yah, ok... but y'know... cause we're... I mean you're better than me... you're the best, the best brother," Tashin said haltingly, with all the earnestness of a very drunk person.

Tavian chuckled close to Tashin's ear and realized too late that they were almost to the bed, and then it was too late, because Tashin's calves encountered the edge of the bed and he was tipping back onto it, dragging Tavian down ontop of him. And then he was looking up at him with those glowing eyes through impossibly long dark lashes, his lips parting sensually around the words he'd yet to say, hands still clutching the front of Tavian's shirt. "It's just that..."

"Yes?" Tavian whispered, his mouth suddenly dry, his body all too aware of every place that it pressed down against Tashin's.

"Don't sleep with Kiril," Tashin breathed, scrunching his nose.

Tavian hung his head a bit, sighing. "Ok. I won't," he said softly, beginning to push himself up.

"Cause... cause..."

"I know. I won't sleep with Kiril."

"Again."

"I won't sleep with Kiril again," he amended managing to get Tashin's hands off his shirt as he stood up.

Tashin turned onto his stomach and half-crawled, half drug himself the rest of the way onto the bed, tuning over again to look up at his older twin through his tousled black hair. Tavian sighed and forced himself to look away, clenching and unclenching his fists and biting his bottom lip.

"Will you stay?" Tashin's voice came softly, plaintively.

"No," Tavian said, his voice hoarse. "I think that would be a very bad idea, Tash." And without giving Tashin time to ask again, because he knew he might not be able to say no twice, Tavian turned and stiffly walked out of the room making a bee line for the only thing he knew would help him at the moment.  


"Sorawen!" Tavian cried, his voice almost cracking as he pounded on his sister-in-law's boudoir door. "Sora, I need you!"

The door flew open and very angry, very night clothes clad Sorawen stood in the doorway, her eyes flashing fire and the promise of a prolonged and painful death. "What do you want, Tavian?! I am not going to sleep with you, so take your drunken self back to your room!" She pushed him sharply away from the door, but he caught her hands. She squeaked in surprise as he pulled her into the hallway.

"Ice water," he breathed looking at her intensely.

"What?" she asked, trying to pull back.

"Can you conjure iced water?" he shouted back.

"Y-yes..."

"Do it. All over me."

Sorawen pulled back, confused and slightly disturbed. "But..."

"Do it!" Tavian shouted, and then gasped as he lost all of his breath, a deluge of nearly freezing water covering him from head to foot in one swift moment. He closed his eyes as he slowly regained his composure, feeling each rivulet of icy water drip from his fingertips, his chin, the ends of his hair, focusing on this feeling until it clouded out what he'd been feeling before and the image of Tashin misty eyed and flushed from drink on his bed was gone. When he was able to breath again he shivered violently once, and fixed his eyes on Zalmon's wife. "Thank you," he whispered, and then turned on his heels to find his room and the empty bed that awaited him.


	3. Arguments

Arguments

Sorawen's slim fingers glided over the text of the book, her eyes following them trance-like. Her shapely lips silently formed words. The air of her boudoir became sharp and charged, smelling of ozone and something like cinnamon or cloves. The glow of her fel-green eyes intensified as the arcane power slowly built, flowing from the words of the tome through her body, gathering slowly into something comprehensive, something to be molded by skillful hands. Her breath quickened, her flesh warming as if beneath a lover's touch, and it was with a small gasp of ecstasy that she prepared to release the new spell. But at the pinacle moment, as her fingertips rose from the page crackling with the blue light of the arcane her concentration was broken by a loud crash. The spell faltered, fizzled, and then released in an uncontrolled arcane torrent filling the room with a blinding purple-blue light that sent her servant girls who had been sitting quietly doing needlepoint into a nearly catatonic state as their bodies absorbed the carefully collected arcane energy. All that work absolutely wasted. Sorawen curled her lip, feeling both drained and annoyed, doubly so when she looked over to see her servant girls wide-eyed and drooling from an overdose of magic. She really ought to send them away when she practiced. Especially these days when it seemed that she couldn't complete even one spell without being interrupted by Zalmon and Tavian raving at each other. But her bower felt so lonely when she was there all alone...

Standing up abruptly, unable to keep from swaying once before collecting herself, Sorawen turned to her door and stalked down the hallway. She realized then that she had been hearing the all too familiar drone of Zalmon's and Tavian's voices arguing with one another for some time. It was both comforting and aggravating to realize it had become so common place that she could concentrate right through it. The sounds came from Zalmon's basement 'study', and she blinked as she saw Tashin hovering nervously at the top of the winding ramp that led from the kitchen into the cellar.

"Sora!" he gasped in relief when he saw her, wringing his hands together. "I think they're throwing things at each other! Do something..."

She sighed, and patted Tashin on the head. Why was she always the one that was supposed to "do something" about Zalmon and Tavian? It was like Tashin actually thought she had some kind of power over them. Grumpily she stalked down the ramp, holding her skirt up slightly to keep the grunge that had collected on the floors and walls of the damp space off as well as she could. There was another crash beyond the heavy cellar door at the bottom, and Sorawen hesitated for a moment before pursing her lips together and shouldering the thing open. Her efforts were rewarded with a fireball whizzing past her face and into the stone wall. She froze, eyes wide, darting to the side to observe the smoldering soot ring merely inches from her head. Zalmon stood at the opposite side of the room, arm outstretched, his handsome face curled into a snarl.

"You should have announced yourself, dearest. I thought you were Tavian," he said. "The little bastard tipped over one of my apparati and then snuck into the shadows while I was distracted. Rather cowardly of you, little brother!" Zalmon called out.

Sorawen cast around the cell-like room, shaking her head. There appeared to be no one else there but Zalmon. She stepped away from the wall. "Are you certain that play time with the demons hasn't addled your brains today, husband of mine? You appear to be the only one he-"

"Sorry, Sora, I know you said not to touch you without your permission, but I'll take my chances with the ice block. I think Zalmon's actually trying to kill me today," Tavian's voice came hurried and hotly panted in her ear as he materialized from the shadows behind her and slid one arm around her waist, pulling her back against him.

Sorawen tried to jerk away, but Tavian's grasp was quite firm. "You think using me as a shield is going to protect you?" she hissed.

Zalmon gave a bored sigh. "There you are, Tave. And you know she's quite right. I am afraid that hiding behind my wife isn't really going to help," he said, his voice almost bored, but laced with a menacing power. His eyes glowed even brighter, sickly green as darkness began to swirl at his fingertips. An imp squawked in its cage and Tavian swore under his breath, throwing himself and Sorawen in opposite directions in time to let a bolt of sickly, shadowy darkness hit a mark on the wall that a moment before would have found both of their chests.

"What are you playing at, Zalmon?!" Tavian cried. "You could have killed us both!"

Sorawen was staring dumbly at the floor to which she had been so unceremoniously thrown. Zalmon made a tsking sound and rolled his eyes, pushing a hand through his hair to keep it out of his eyes. "That didn't have enough power to kill either of you. Maim, perhaps, but with you, dear Tave, I am much more interested in causing significant amounts of pain." Zalmon began stepping slowly across the room. "Maybe that will finally teach you your place, and something about fealty. It just so happens I know this wonderful little curse called 'agony'."

"Stop it!" Tashin's voice cried from the doorway. It was followed quickly by Tashin himself who, to the surprise of all launched himself at Zalmon, shoving him back hard enough to make him stumble. Of all of the eyes that were trained on Tashin wide with surprise, none were wider or more surprised than Tashin's. Even as he stood, trembling slightly between his twin and the elder brother he both admired and obeyed, arms outspread in a gesture of instinctive protection, he gaped at his own audacity. "I won't let you hurt him," he said his voice a mere whisper, as if he could not help himself. After a moment he added, a bit louder as an afterthought, "Or Sora either."

Zalmon stood, his face a stony mask of rage. His lip curled as he took a step forward, hand coming up to strike Tashin across the face. The younger twin flinched away instinctively, but the blow still connected with a resounding slap. The younger twin gasped more from surprise than the actual pain. Zalmon had never, never struck him before. "Get out," Zalmon ground out. "All of you."

Tashin did not hesitate. He knew better than to take his brother's whims for granted. Flustered and still shaking he turned, pulling Tavian up from the floor and after him out the doorway. Sorawen got slowly to her feet, daintily brushing dust and debris from her gown. "Well done, darling," she murmured acidly. "You've finally shown your beloved Tashin what a brute you truly are."

Zalmon had turned away. "Don't you have a bower to be locked away in?" he snarled over his shoulder.

"I will be at my father's," she said simply, turning to leave, shutting the cellar door soundly behind her.

It was Tavian who ended up taking the lead, guiding Tashin to his room Halfway across the estate Tashin had crashed from his sudden adrenaline rush and began shaking in earnest, his breath coming far too fast and shallow for Tavian's liking as he grasped at his heart. Tavian had had to blow gently on his face to keep him from hyperventilating, softly calling Tashin's name. Once in his room Tavian sat his younger twin down on the edge of the bed and immediately gave him another dose of the Bloodthistle-laced elixir he now always kept on hand. Once Tashin's nerves had calmed and he stopped clutching at his heart Tavian settled himself on his knees before his brother and gently reached up to investigate his cheek.

"Let me see your face, Tash," he said softly.

Tashin kept pulling away, shaking his head. "It's fine," he hissed. And then, more softly, "I can't believe he hit me..."

"Why? You've seen him hit me plenty of times," Tavian said more to himself than to Tashin.

"That's because you always make him so angry," Tashin replied, his voice catching. He became very still for a moment as Tavian drew his thumb over the little bruise on his face. "Why?" he hissed in a whisper.

"What's that, Tash?" Tavian asked absently, trying to assess whether or not the mark would last long.

"Why?" Tashin asked more loudly. He jerked his head away from Tavian's touch, his face twisted and unexpectedly angry. "Why do you always have to make him so angry?!"

Tavian paused, pulling his hands back. He was somewhat stunned by Tashin's outburst, and not a little hurt. So this was his fault now? "Me?" he snarled, getting to his feet and turning away. "I just wanted to talk to him, he's the one that flew off the handle."

Tashin shook his head, clenching the bedspread with one hand. "You do this almost every day! You goad him, I hear you! You love making him angry! Why can't you just leave him be? Why can't you just stay out of his way?!"

Tavian pressed his lips together into a thin line. He could not turn around to look at Tashin, because he knew by the sound in his voice that his twin was on the verge of tears, and that this would be his undoing. He had to hold onto the anger he felt. "Because I have to know that he's going to take care of you, Tash, and every time I broach the subject with him he starts talking about 'the family tradition.' You would not survive being a warlock, Tashin!"

"He doesn't want me to become a warlock, Tavian! He wants you to! That's why he hates you so much, because he and father had such high hopes for you, and you betrayed the family..." Tashin's voice had grown small.

Tavian wheeled around. "Is that what you really think? You, too, Tash? That I betrayed the family by doing what I thought I needed to do to ensure its survival when most of the city lay in ruins and our titles meant -nothing-?! We nearly lost everything, Tashin! Everything!"

Tashin looked away uncomfortably. "I know, but..."

"So yes, I became a thief. I stole to save us. I practiced the ways of a rogue, I dishonored myself so somehow our coffers would be a little bit more than completely bare. And you were so sick... How were you ever going to get better when we had nothing? Our entire society was sundered, and father was worried about saving face?! And Zalmon... of all people... he went right along with the old man. Maybe my exile was necessary, because one of us had to be a scapegoat, but I helped this family survive when protocol alone wasn't going to be good enough."

"I know that!" Tashin countered.

"Then how can you sit there and be angry with me? How can you accuse me of goading Zalmon and betraying the family...?" he asked plaintively, not bothering to hide his hurt.

"Because he really could have hurt you, Tavian," Tashin said, his voice small. "Zalmon is capable of such terrible things. He doesn't mean to, but when he gets so angry like that... he could kill you, Tave, and I... I couldn't live if something happened to you."

Tavian gave Tash a long, hard look. He was filled with so many confusing and conflicting emotions. He wanted always to be near Tashin, but he held such a great capacity to hurt his sensitive twin. He went to him silently, sitting down on the bed beside him and pulling him into his arms. Tashin clung to him, burying his face in his shoulder. Tavian was silent for a long time, and when he finally took a deep breath, looking up from where he had pressed his face into Tashin's hair, his voice was steady. "Then I should leave."

Startled, Tashin pulled back, looking into Tavian's face with scared eyes. "What?! No! You promised you wouldn't leave me again."

Tavian couldn't bear to look into Tashin's eyes and so turned his face away. "I know, but I can't promise you that I will stop fighting with Zalmon, and if it's upsetting you that much... If you got hurt because of me..." he looked back now, reaching up to gently touch Tashin's face where Zalmon had struck him. "You've already gotten hurt because of me. I won't forgive myself if it happens again. And it's not like I won't be able to come back and see you this time."

Tashin reached up, placing his hand over Tavian's. "Then I'll go with you. I'll leave the estate with you. We should be together, and if it's like you said we can come back when we like."

Tavian looked hard at his brother. He'd known that Tashin would offer this, and until that moment he had been exultant in the knowledge. But now, feeling Tashin's warm skin beneath his hand, sitting so near to him that he could hear his breathing and the beating of his delicate heart, looking into his loving, trusting, beloved eyes Tavian despaired. The world beyond the walls of the Stormcaller estate was not a particularly good one. He, who had lived in the ruins of the city, scraped and fought tooth and nail to keep himself alive after being cast out, knew it better than most. True, things were much better now than they had been even a few years ago, but still. The Wretched roamed the ruined streets, Scourge still clamored at the city gates, and the addiction their people suffered had driven many of them insane or worse yet to even darker things... He cared for Tashin, loved him more than anything in all worlds, and as much as he wanted him at his side, he realized in that moment he wanted him safe even more. He shook his head slowly. "No," he whispered. "I don't know that I could protect you Tashin, and if anything every happened to you-"

"Then don't try to protect me!" Tashin cried angrily, pounding a fist against Tavian's chest. "I can take care of myself."

"Tashin, you have no idea what's out there. You have been pampered and cared for your entire life-"

"And you hadn't?!" Tashin countered.

"I wasn't sick and frail, Tashin!" Tavian yelled back, angrier than he meant to be.

Tashin pulled back as if Tavian had struck him. He blinked at him, the hurt growing in his eyes. He was silent for a long time and then finally, "You're just like him. You're just like Zalmon. You think I'm an invalid; that I'm a child incapable of anything but being a burden to others!" He shoved Tavian with both hands in the chest and then rose, turning away.

Tavian sat, open mouthed, stunned. "Tash, no that's not it..."

"Yes it is," Tashin ground out. "Why did you come back? Why did you make me get better just to treat me like I'll never be well?!"

Tavian stood and walked purposefully behind Tashin, putting his hands on his arms. "I came back, because I love you and I worry about you, and I want you safe for the same reasons."

"Then let me go with you," Tashin said pitifully. He turned into Tavian's embrace, facing him and gripped the front of his tunic. "Let me prove to everyone, to myself, that I can do more than sit in this house and rot with it from the inside out. I can learn everything you have. I'm not afraid to work hard, Tavian. I know you won't let anything happen to me. I belong with you."

Tavian put his hands on Tashin's hips and looked deeply into his eyes, his face drawn into a frown. "I know that. Just be patient. One day I swear I will take you away from this prison Zalmon keeps you in."

"You are keeping me in it as well," Tashin said, his voice pleading.

"I need to know you are safe."

Tashin slumped, his head falling forward to rest on Tavian's shoulder. "I am not a child," Tashin said, his voice thin and wet with tears. "I am your equal. I am capable... I can take care of myself if you'd just let me."

"Shh," Tavian soothed, fully wrapping his arms around his beloved twin, holding him, rocking him slightly. "You've exhausted yourself, dear heart. Will you lie down for me?"  
Tashin made a pitiful sound of frustration between gritted teeth, but allowed himself to be led to the bed and tucked beneath the covers. He would not meet Tavian's eyes even as the rogue sat quietly beside him and ran his fingers through his hair. Just as Tashin's eyes began to fall shut he murmured, "Don't leave..."

"Not until tomorrow," Tavian replied, leaning over to place a sweet, chaste kiss on Tashin's lips. By the time he had risen and made it to the door Tashin was asleep. Tavian looked back at him, conflicted and aching inside. He knew he should break his word and leave that moment, but he could not bring himself to do so. Instead he went down to the front garden and sat in the sinking sun, trying to fill himself with some warmth. Out of the corner of his eye he saw one of the servants dressed in drab woolen pants and a brown linen shirt emerge from the front door. He wondered at the woman's audacity to use the main entrance rather than the servants' door around the side, but decided not to say anything. It didn't really feel like his place to make a fuss about something that was in truth so very trivial. He decided instead to simply ignore her presence and went on sitting cross-legged on the stone bench, face upturned toward the sun which felt slightly weak.

"You look fairly relaxed considering," Sorawen's voice said.

Tavian turned, shading his eyes and squinting down the path to the front door. He realized then that what he had taken to be a servant was actually his brother's wife dressed in uncharacteristically drab clothing. Her face was washed free of cosmetics and her long auburn hair was pulled back in a plain ponytail at the nape of her neck. She looked completely different from the usually immaculate woman in fine gowns that Tavian had come to know. He watched her, not speaking, as she came upon him pausing beside the bench. She had a small pack over her shoulder. "I didn't even recognize you," he said at last.

She smiled a little thinly and looked down. Tavian had to wonder if he detected a small coloring of her cheeks. "Well I couldn't exactly walk all the way to the Stillwater Estate in one of my silk gowns. Well I suppose I could, but I would have felt very silly."

Tavian blinked. "Stillwater estate? That is your maiden home, isn't it?"

Sorawen nodded and sighed softly. "I can usually handle Zalmon well enough, but after this afternoon I have no desire to be in his home. He has lost the right to keep me locked up for now," she gave a sardonic little smile. "Once he has calmed down in a week or two he will storm over to my father's and demand that I return with him, that the house needs looking after and his bed is cold, or some such nonsense. He'll be more agreeable for a time in any case. But for now... I think I would like to spend some time with my sisters."

Tavian nodded slowly, wondering just how much harder his reappearance had made things not only for Tashin but for Sorawen as well. "I'll be leaving tomorrow as well."

Sorawen raised an eyebrow. "And where will you go?"

"Back to my life," he gave her a wink. "I really only returned to see Tashin... other than him there is more for me outside these walls than within. Now that Zalmon has at least partly allowed me back into the estate I should be able to come and go at least once in a while for Tash's sake."

Sorawen gave Tavian a long, unreadable look and then sat down heavily beside him on the bench. She looked out over the garden and the hill that sloped down towards the tattered road. "He'll be devastated," she said quietly.

Tavian hung his head. "I don't know what else to do. My world is too dangerous for him, and my presence here is causing us all too much trouble."

Sorawen nodded. "I would take him to my father's, but Zalmon would never have it. He fears the country and the woods. Tashin would never disobey him for my sake." They sat together in commiseration over their mutual care for Tashin.

"I remember when the trees here flowered and were always green," Tavian said wistfully after a time. "The flowers in the garden were always in spring colors. Now... it is as if spring has faded into perpetual fall."

Sorawen made a small sound that might have been a laugh. "Welcome to the autumn of our people," she said softly. Finally Sorawen got to her feet, adjusting her pack. "Do what you think is best." She started back towards the walk.

"Will you be safe?" Tavian called after her. "On foot, alone, through the woods...?"

She gave him grin. "You give me far too little credit, Master Stormcaller. I have the vast powers of the arcane at my disposal to protect myself, and in truth the walk is not so far, no more than seven miles."

Tavian smiled and nodded. "I won't worry then."

"Please don't!" she called back, turning away. Tavian watched her until she disappeared up the road into Dawning Square. By that time the sun had nearly sunken down behind the wall that separated the rebuilt half of the city from where the Stormcaller estate stood, still amongst much of the rubble. An arcane patroller that seemed to responding well to it's current programming ambled by on the road below repeating it's litany of warnings to 'maintain the peace.' The young rogue shivered, feeling the autumnal sharpness in the air more fully now. He felt drained and decided it would be best to simply go to bed and try to get some rest before taking his leave in the morning. On his way back to his room he contemplated going to see Tashin, but as much as his heart longed to look upon his twin, he steeled himself against doing so, knowing that it might undo him.

Tashin woke in his room in a panicky sweat, his heart hammering so hard it felt as if he was on the verge of an episode. He gulped for air, gripping the sheets in fear that lingered from his dreams. In his dreams he had been reliving the invasion, fleeing from the city, hiding, terrified as he clung to his older brothers. And even though they, along with many others, had survived so many more had been killed. Not only killed, but raised again to turn against them. When they had finally returned the estate was in shambles and decay and death filled the city. It was as Tavian had said: they had nothing. It was then that Tashin had truly become ill for the first time, his heart and mind simply overloaded by the horror that had befallen their people, not to mention the corruption of the Sunwell, the ramifications of which shone back from every pair of Sindorei eyes. The tainted, fel magic... how it had twisted and sickened them all. He did not know whether to be glad or frightened of the fact that they had grown accustomed to it, lived with it, lived off of it, and now seemed to thrive with it in the very cores of their beings. Prince Kael'thas had said it would make them strong, but...

Tashin tried to calm his thoughts, forcing himself to breath deeply and evenly. His heartbeat slowed and the pain in his chest began to ease. His room was dim, the gloaming had come outside of his windows. The curtains were still drawn, allowing the last of the gray light inside. The house was quiet. Tashin lay for a moment, collecting himself, and then began to remember the day. Angry, frustrated, and disappointed his mind turned to Tavian and the younger twin rolled peevishly to his side. How dare he presume to tell him what he was capable of? How could he tell him that he loved him and yet condemn him to remain in this house alone to waste away once more? It felt like he was drowning, like he was suffocating and he would never be able to breath until he was free. He'd thought that Tavian would give that to him, he -needed- Tavian to give that to him. But he had refused him the one thing Tashin wanted more than anything else, a way out of the Stormcaller estate, a reason to live.

"Oh, brother, how can you do this to me?" he whispered into his pillow. He knew that no amount of begging or pleading would make Tavian change his mind. He would only continue to see him as a child, take such a tantrum to mean as much, and Tashin could not truly blame him. He would have to show him that he was not a child...

He lay still working things over in his head, trying to find some way to stop Tavian or change his mind. A memory surfaced, a remembered conversation he had had with Zalmon when he was younger. Zalmon had always been good at getting what he wanted out of others, at turning situations around to his advantage, and convincing them that his point was the correct one. After witnessing one such moment when Zalmon had convinced a member of an opposing house to support them in the reconstruction of the estate Tashin had quietly asked him how he did it. How did he always get people to do what he wanted? Zalmon had beamed, loving to be praised, and given Tashin a serious look. _"Getting what you want out of others is easy, Tashin. You simply have to know what it is they want even more. What are they invested in, what do they care about, what is it that only you can give them? Once you know this you can exploit it. The important thing is that your opponent believe that you will and can do what you tell them, whether for their benefit or their bereavement. How you approach each interaction depends on the individual. Manipulation is a subtle art, but a noble pursuit."_

Brows furrowed, Tashin curled up on himself a bit more. If what he needed, what he truly wanted could be supplied only by Tavian then what could he alone supply that Tavian desired even more... more than he desired Tashin's safety? But he already knew the answer, and it was not even something he was wholly unwilling to give. Feigning sleep in the garden the night of his father's funeral Tashin had listened drowsily to Tavian's conversation with Kiril, to each veiled and implied admition of Tavian's longing for him. He had known what he was doing when he pulled Tavian into that kiss and tangled their legs together. Granted the alcohol had helped. Tashin probably would never have acted on his impulse if he hadn't been as drunk as he was, but he had wanted to know how it would feel, how his own body would react, and he had been pleasantly surprised. Even more he had been surprised by Tavian's reaction. He had been so... what? Thrown? Flustered? Moved? Hardly the aggressive, brash brother he had become accustomed to. Could he possibly hold that much power over Tavian? The thought sunk in slowly, and as it did Tashin opened his eyes.


	4. A Subtle Art

((Comments: This chapter marks the beginning of this story becoming yaoi/shounen-ai and including sexual content and twincest. Be warned. If you are not a fan of yaoi- male homosexual relationships -, sexual content, or twincest please stop reading my story, cause I don't want to hear about it later. :p ))

A Subtle Art

His footfalls were light on the hallway floor. Tashin trailed the tips of his fingers along the cool, white wall, steadily breathing in the evening air. When he reached the door to Tavian's room he did not knock, he barely dared to think, entering quietly and pausing for a moment. The glass door to the balcony was open causing the gauzy curtains to billow slightly. Pale light from the rising moon cast long shadows from the windows. He could hear the steady rhythm of Tavian's breathing and see him sprawled out as he always was in sleep, arms and legs thrown wide as he lay on his back, the covers pushed halfway off. Tashin allowed impulse to move him across the room, feet soft, but purposeful. They took him to the edge of the bed, and as he moved he began to loosen the ties of his tunic. It fell away with a soft hiss of fabric, pooling on the floor at his feet. Without pausing he slid into bed with his twin. As if in a trance placed one leg on each side of his hips and leaned down to feather kisses over his sleeping face. Not exactly sure what to do with his hands he let them rest, shaking slightly on Tavian's chest. He did not call Tavian's name, preferring to feel him come out of sleep from the awareness of his body alone. His lips brushed Tavian's and the older twin stirred slightly, like one waking from a fitful dream. Another kiss and this time Tavian met it lethargically, making a small noise of discontent when Tashin pulled away. As Tavian's eyes fluttered open, so too did his hands wonderingly come up to find Tashin's body, hesitating before coming to rest on him. Tashin softly kissed his cheeks, his eyes, the tip of his nose, and then his lips once more and this time the kiss was returned fully, though still somewhat sluggishly. Their lips broke apart with a soft sound and Tashin pulled back just enough to look down into his brother's hooded, dazed eyes. He felt hot and flushed, but sure of himself.

Tavian looked up at Tashin, his mind still clouded by sleep, unable to trust the things his senses were telling him. Surely this was a dream, a fantasy. His hands moved wonderingly over Tashin's smooth, soft body and down his arms, fingertips trailing along the inside of his bicep, pausing to touch the sensitive backs of his elbows. "Cruel dream," he breathed.

Tashin flushed, unable to help feeling selfconscious. He bit his lower lip, peering at Tavian through long lashes. "I'm not a dream, Tave, and I could never be cruel to you."

Tavian then seemed to come fully awake for the first time. His deep green eyes opened fully, growing wide as thin, dark eyebrows rose sharply. He stared unbelieving at his twin, feeling his heart begin to pound furiously in his chest. Blood seemed to rush to all parts of his body at once, making him lightheaded for a moment. He could suddenly feel every place that Tashin's body pressed down against his, and he could do nothing but stare up at his brother, who's blushing, bashful face was immaculately beautiful to his eyes. "Tash..." he breathed, his voice barely audible above the pounding of his heart, "what are you doing here?"

Tashin leaned down farther to speak close to Tavian's face, his breath dusting over his twin's sensitive lips. "I wanted... I did not want you to leave again before I told you that I love you. I came to tell you... to show you. Is this not alright?" His voice quavered slightly and he made to pull away even as his fingers constricted around Tavian's nightshirt.

Tavian's hands tightened on his arms. "No! I mean... yes, it's alright. It's... you're wonderful."

Pressing his lips together slightly Tashin maneuvered atop Tavian, lowering himself down so that their chests pressed together and he supported himself on his forearms, looking deeply into Tavian's eyes, which were still swirling with disbelief and wonder. He kissed him softly, feeling the reaction of Tavian's body as it rose ever so slightly into his own. "Don't go..." Tashin breathed.

"Tash, I have to," Tavian responded, but his voice was tremulous.

"I need you, I want to be with you, only you," he whispered, kissing a trail down Tavian's jaw and neck to his ear. He breathed against it softly. "Don't you love me?"

"Oh yes..." Tavian's voice was a moan.

"I'll give you anything you want... everything... every part of me belongs to you." Tashin had begun to move his hands over Tavian's torso, up under his shift wonderingly caressing each inch of his gloriously smooth, muscled chest. He had become so strong. "But please..."

Again that word, "Yes?"

"Never leave me," Tashin replied breathlessly, as he surprised both of them by acting on instinct and rolling his hips down against Tavian's. The sensation made Tashin gasp prettily, his voice catching in the back of his throat as Tavian moaned, arching up against his younger twin.

Tavian let his hands fall away and pressed back into the bed, his chest was rising and falling sharply and the look on his face was deeply conflicted, and not a little bewildered. He shook his head and then reached to touch Tashin's face. "Tash..." he pushed his brother's face up so that he could look into his eyes. He was shaking; they were both shaking.

"Never leave me," Tashin repeated, putting his hand over Tavian's. "I can't bear to be without you. All I want is to be with you. This is what you've always wanted... Don't leave me behind." Tashin sat up, experimentally rocking his hips forward again, watching the reaction this got out of Tavian. His pale skin glowed in the dim moonlight of the room, his dark hair fell down his back, partially falling out of the tail he usually kept it in. He looked down at Tavian, and when his twin did not immediately do anything other than stare up at him, an unreadable expression on his face that Tashin might have recognized as awe had he ever witnessed such a thing before, the younger twin became uncertain, wondering if he had been too hasty, and blushed deeply, moving to wrap his arms around himself selfconsciously.

"No, don't," Tavian said, gently grabbing Tashin's wrists. He touched his fingertips then to Tashin's flat belly, lingering over his navel and the band of his pants. Tashin shivered at the touch. He began to touch him more fully, running his calloused palms over his gentle planes, marveling at the softness of his flawless skin. Always he kept Tashin's eyes locked with his own, the intensity growing to be almost unbearable. "You're so beautiful, Tashin," he murmured wonderingly.

Tashin could not help a small laugh. "Then so are you, after all we are the same."

"No," Tavian said, sitting up, making Tashin gasp as he put his hands on his hip, tugging him snugly against his lap. Tashin leaned back as Tavian removed his own shirt, revealing skin that was darker that Tashin's, tanned by the sun and elements. Tashin's mouth fell open in small 'o' as he saw for the first time a splayed scar, like a starburst in the center of Tavian's chest. The skin there was darker than the rest and slightly rough as if it had been burned. Unable to help himself he touched the spot gingerly and then looked into Tavian's eyes again. "You are perfect, Tash," Tavian said softly. "And I am so very flawed."

Tashin shook his head. "This is nothing," he said. "This doesn't detract from your beauty." He wanted to ask what it was, where had he gotten it, did it hurt? But it didn't feel like the right time.

Tavian shook his head. "I don't mean just things like this. There is so much else inside me that is so far from pure..."

"And you think there is not in me? You are the one who resisted. I came to you. I am the one who could not resist my desire for my own brother." Perhaps it was farther than Tashin needed to go, but it seemed like the kind of thing Tavian would want to hear. An admission of his desire rolled into an admission of his willingness to be dirtied and debased by that same desire.

Tavian fell back onto the bed, trailing his hands over Tashin's hips. "This is truly what you want?"

Tashin bit his lower lip and nodded, following Tavian down onto the bed once more. "But I'm not sure what to do... I know you've been with other men. Show me."

Tavian could not help but groan at those words. It was as if he was doing it on purpose, saying and doing all the things that would make it impossible for him to come to his senses and put a stop to it. He tangled his hands in Tashin's hair and with a growl pulled him into a deep kiss, using his tongue to taste him. Tashin reacted to him naturally, arching his back down, tipping forward to lay more fully atop him. Tavian's hands moved down Tashin's back, caressing along the line of his spine until he reached his hips, grabbing them, pulling them along with his own into a rolling rhythm. With each jolt of friction Tashin gasped, breaking the kiss more than once to make some small sound only to have his lips claimed immediately by Tavian's once more. And with each rocking of their hips the contact became more intense, their members harder and more painfully confined.

When Tavian's hand slid between them, down Tashin's belly to cup his groin, squeezing him teasingly at first, slowly growing more forceful Tashin almost squeaked in protest, unable to help feeling ashamed. But as this turned into a breathy moan he leaned in to bury his face in the pillow above Tavian's shoulder. He was growing hot as if fire was licking his insides. His hands gripped the sheets as he raised his hips, allowing Tavian to touch him as he pleased. He did not protest, or make any sound at all as he felt Tavian's calloused fingers slip inside the band of his pants, hooking them on his thumbs and pushing them slowly down over his ass and thighs. He held his breath as he followed Tavian's silent commands, guided by the pressure of his hands, slipping out of them the rest of the way one leg at a time. The open air felt heavenly on his rigid erection, and Tashin shivered as Tavian's fingers trailed up the backs of his thighs and the raised globes of his rear, fingertips dusting over the sensitive division. Raising his hips Tavian shimmied out of his own pants with a practiced finesse. And then they were both naked, and Tavian was once again running his hands exploratorily over Tashin's back and sides, using deep, long caresses as if to sooth a skittish animal. Which was exactly what Tashin felt like.

Tavian turned his face to the side so that he could whisper into Tashin's long ear. "Put one leg between mine," he said softly, his voice thick with desire and emotion. Letting Tavian's hands guide him, the younger twin did as he was instructed, allowing his hips to be pulled down so that their bodies became flush once more. It was a strange feeling to have Tavian's hard length pressed against his thigh so hot and blatantly -there-. Though he supposed the same could be said for the way his own erection was pressing down against Tavian's thigh as well. "Don't hide your face," Tavian murmured, nuzzling Tashin's ear. Haltingly Tashin turned his face out of the pillow towards Tavian's. Their noses nearly touched, and Tashin knew he was blushing shamefully. Tavian closed his eyes and stretched his neck to kiss his twin softly, rocking his hips as he did so causing his thigh to rub against Tashin's manhood and vice versa.

"Ah..." a small breathy sound escaped Tashin's mouth. Tavian echoed it with a lover's sigh, and kissed him again, continuing the rhythm of their bodies which intensified over time. Soon Tashin was moving down against Tavian restively, sucking air sharply through his teeth with each aching wave of pleasure. Feeling Tavian's body against his own was surreal, both familiar and alien.

"Are you ready for more?" Tavian asked huskily. Their bodies had begun to become slick with sweat, and he did not know how much more teasing he could take. He wanted Tashin so badly, it was worse than he had imagined it would be, but he also did not want to push his gentle twin too far or too fast.

"Whatever you want," Tashin breathed back. "I told you that I'm yours."

Tavian nodded, refusing to think too hard on Tashin's words and leaned towards the edge of the bed, stretching his arm towards the nightstand still holding Tashin to him with the other. His fingers closed around the squat glass jar of faintly scented, innocuous oil that would have been found in most guest rooms in Quel'thalas. A courtesy of the master of the house to his guests who were not expected to leave their sexual appetites at home. This thought made Tavian's lips quirk up in one corner. _Thank you, Zalmon._

"Sit back, and straddle me again," Tavian instructed_, _propping himself up onto his elbows as Tashin obeyed. Their eyes met and both smiled a little nervously as Tavian pulled the stopper on the jar and poured some of the oil on his fingers, letting it dribble between them and onto his abdomen. With glistening fingers he began to smooth the oil over his erection, moaning at how hyper sensitive he was. Tashin watched, feeling his pulse grow faster as Tavian touched himself. Licking his lips he rubbed his hands through the trails of oil on his taut belly, scraping his nails gently against Tavian's tan skin.

"Let me," he breathed, lacing his fingers with Tavian's over his hard penis. Tavian's breath caught in his throat and his hand fell away, letting Tashin alone touch him. Tashin's confidence began to grow again. Pleasuring Tavian like this was easy. The size and shape of him were intimately familiar, he knew where all of his most sensitive spots would be, how he would like to be touched most. Though he was in effect a virgin, Tashin was not a stranger to self-pleasure. But it was strange to feel something so familiar and yet not feel it, it was erotic and exciting, as were the sounds coming from Tavian. He looked down at his twin who was flushed and panting, gripping the bed, his sweat damp skin glistening slightly as it strained with each wave of please. Pleasure that Tashin was giving. For a moment his eyes grew predatory. He held such power over Tavian, and this too was exciting... erotic in a different way. "Now what?"

Tavian's eyes fluttered open with one last moan. He reached out, taking Tashin's hand by the wrist and pulling it away. He propped himself up again and dribbled more oil over his fingers before sitting the rest of the way up, once more having Tashin tightly against his lap. "Now I prepare you," he answered. He put his arms around Tashin so that his hands cupped his ass, pulling the cheeks apart slightly and murmuring, "Spread your legs more."

Tashin obeyed, leaning farther into Tavian, placing his hands on his brother's shoulders to steady himself. He angled his hips back to give Tavian more access and then closed his eyes, holding his breath once more as he felt the tip of Tavian's oil covered finger swirl experimentally around his opening for the first time. He whimpered at the strange, enticing sensation and then hiccuped as the tip of the digit slid inside, shallow at first, but with increasing depth and movement. It was a strange, almost ticklish feeling at first, but it grew into a funny stretching ache that was somehow delicious. His fingers clawed slightly at Tavian's shoulders, fingernails biting in hard enough to leave halfmoons on his tanned skin when he began to insert a second finger. "Ah... nnnh," Tashin tried to keep himself quiet, but small sounds made their way past his clenched teeth. The two fingers went in deep and then Tavian began to spread them, streching Tashin from the inside. It burned, but retained the strangely desirable aching. Tashin half moaned half groaned tremulously, his hands slipping down to clutch at Tavian's back. His pulse was racing, blood pounding in his veins, he was beginning to feel light headed and dizzy. He panted, resting his cheek against Tavian's shoulder.

Tavian stilled his fingers, though it was immensely difficult to do. The inside of Tashin's body was hot and tight, and he wanted to do nothing but continue to explore it. He placed a steadying hand on the small of Tashin's back and turned his head to nuzzle his ear. "Are you going to be alright? Is it too much... for your heart?"

Tashin thought it actually might be, but he was not going to admit it. If he did this would all be for naught and Tavian would never, ever agree to take him away with him no matter what promises Tashin's body tricked him into making. Tashin shook his head. "No. I'll be fine," his voice panted, sounding somewhat thin. "Please, don't stop..." He pushed his hips back, pushing Tavian slightly farther into him, and moaned tremulously. In no position to argue Tavian did as Tashin asked and continued his exploration of his twin's inner body, preparing him for their joining. His fingertips brushed the deep set center of Tashin's pleasure, and the younger twin cried out softly in surprise at the sudden sensation. With that Tavian could not help but smirk as he pulled his fingers out slowly.

Tavian eased himself back a bit, supporting himself on one hand. Since Tashin was already on top and astride him, it seemed best to simply continue things this way. Then Tashin could control things, the speed, the depth... at least for a little while as he got used to being penetrated. "Position yourself over me," Tavian said, putting his free hand on Tashin's chest and pushing him back gently. Tashin obeyed, but looked both very flushed and uncertain. "I promise, it will be easiest this way."

Tashin nodded, trusting his brother, wanting him to feel as if he were in control. He moved, allowing his twin to guide him into place. He could feel the heat coming off of his member, and shivered expectantly as it brushed along his sensitive skin. Tashin leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands above Tavian, looking down into his face. With one of Tavian's hands on his hip and the other guiding his erection to the mouth of his anus, Tashin began to push back, closing his eyes as the sensation of being pushed into grew, making his belly tighten and his legs and arms tremble. The first part, until the head was past the tight coil of muscle, seemed to be the hardest. Tavian had to fight to keep himself from thrusting upward to bury himself more deeply in his quivering twin. "That's it," he ground out huskily, "you're doing fine... it's gets better, I promise."

Tashin whimpered and nodded, pushing back a bit more, crying out as he did and his body started to clench up in spite of himself. He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to relax. Both of Tavian's hands were now on his hips, and the tightness of his grip gave testament to how great his own need was, and how great his restraint. Taking another deep breath Tashin closed his eyes and in one swift motion sat back, sitting down fully on Tavian, feeling him rip the rest of the way into him, burning hotly through his entrails and filling him in a way and with a sensation Tashin had never imagined. As he did this he tossed his head back, letting out an agonized cry. He swayed, suddenly exhausted and overwhelmed. He heard Tavian swear, and Tashin whimpered as his twin hastily sat up, moving within him and changing the angle of his penetration in order to catch Tashin in his arms and support him.

"Gods, Tash..." he groaned. "Why would you...? You're going to hurt yourself." He touched him tentatively, finding it hard to focus despite his concern. The rushing feel of being encased in Tashin so fully still pounded through his body.

Tashin swayed limply, letting his forehead fall against Tavian's. He could feel every inch of his twin inside of him, throbbing, stretching him wide. "I couldn't wait," he breathed. "And neither could you. Just hold me for a moment... I'll be fine after that."

They clung to each other, simply being joined, for some time. When Tashin felt as if he had begun to regain some of his strength, he experimentally flexed his muscles around Tavian's member. The action brought pleasure to both of them, and Tashin slowly began to move, wanting to feel more of his brother, but found the angle awkward.

"Wrap your legs around me," Tavian said huskily. "Bend your knees, put your heels... here." His hands guided Tashin's awkward movements. Soon Tashin found himself snugly seated against him, heels pressed into the dimples at the small of his back just before the swell of his rear. Hands on Tavian's shoulders he panted softly against his brother's lips, beginning to use his hands and the placement of his feet for leverage to move himself up and slowly back down. He gasped as the tip rubbed his prostate and his finger reflexively dug into Tavian's shoulders once more. The dark haired rogue's hands moved over his back, holding him close, guiding the movements of his hips.

"Oh, Tavian," Tashin breathed, moaning as his twin moved within him slowly at first, but becoming deeper, longer, harder. The pain and pleasure mixed making Tashin 's head swim, making it hard for him to ground himself in the mixture of sensations and feelings. And so he simply clung to his twin, moving as instinct told him. Tavian grit his teeth, barely able to comprehend the magnitude of what was happening. Here... at last... he made love to his beloved Tashin, his twin, his other half. It felt like nothing he had ever experienced. No sex, no matter how heated had ever felt like this. He kissed Tashin's skin, his neck, his shoulder, tasting the salt of sweat and his musk.

After a time Tashin began to tremble in fatigue, his legs and arms shaking as he tried to continue the rhythm with his brother. But he flagged, the pounding of his heart so fast it felt as if it would fly from his chest. It began to become hard for him to breath, and his panting was magnified. A hard thrust hit home and he cried out breathlessly, hands pulling at Tavian's dark, sweat damp hair. "Tave... I... I can't... I'm too..." he tried to speak.

Without hesitating Tavian began to lower his younger twin back, cradling him as he rose to his knees, never breaking their joined bodies apart. He lay Tashin on his back, smoothing the hair from his face as he leaned over him. "Breathe, dear heart," he murmured softly, putting a hand over his heart. The speed at which it was beating was alarming, and he leaned down to soothingly kiss Tashin's face. "It's too much... you should rest," Tavian panted.

"No," Tashin whimpered, tossing his head. "Don't stop, Tave... please don't stop," he choked on a sob and reached for his twin, tangling his hands desperately in his hair and pulling their lips together.

Tavian did not want to stop, not when they were both so close. He returned the kiss, rocking into Tashin, eliciting a moan from both of them. "Then just lay here. Let me finish it," he murmured as he moved to hook Tashin's legs over his shoulders. Tashin nodded, swallowing hard, licking his lips. When he felt Tavian start to move within him again he let out a tremulous cry, his back arching off the bed as his hands gripped the sheets. His black hair pooled around his flushed face, now completely undone. Tavian tried to be gentle, fearing he was pushing Tashin too far. But it was hard when his own need was so great, he wanted to feel every inch of his twin over and over until he could not take it any longer. Tashin tried to hold back his cries even as he felt tears begin to fall from the corners of his eyes and down his smooth cheeks and each cry that escaped sounded more and more like a sob.

"Tavian... Tavian..." he gasped. The feeling inside of him was growing to be unbearably strong. Each thrust sent a jolt like molten fire or quicksilver shooting through his entire body. "Promise me...," he moaned.

Tavian shuddered, the sound of Tashin's voice adding to his heightened state of sensitivity. He was growing weak himself, and slid Tashin's legs from his shoulders so that he could be closer to him, running his thumbs over the tracks of Tashin's tears. Still on his knees, he continued to rock his hips, meeting Tashin's. "Anything," he breathed, kissing him.

Tashin's arms came up to wrap around Tavian's neck and shoulders. "Don't leave me," he panted, and then his voice caught around a cry as he moaned, arching up against him. He pressed their cheeks together, murmuring into his ear. "Don't... go without me. Take me with you. Swear it."

"Oh, Tash," Tavian hissed back, and then he was groaning as Tashin tightened around him suddenly, massaging his erection almost painfully. "Yes," he moaned. "Yes I swear, Tashin. Anything you want, just... come with me..."

Tashin's grip tightened and he gasped, clenching around Tavian once more as he thrust especially deep. As he massaged Tavian's member, his own was stroked between their bodies, sending wave after wave or pleasure through him. He panted and made small, sweet sounds against Tavian's ear. "I'll never leave you. Never leave me."

"Never."

And with that Tashin let his sensations flood over, pushing up onto Tavian with a long cry as he came, hands tangling in his twin's long black hair, pulling it sharply, nails scratching against his scalp. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. Like his whole body was filled with pure sensation, overwhelming, blinding, terrifying, and wonderful. More wonderful still was the answering, echoing feeling of Tavian meeting his own orgasm, spilling into him with a deep, warm pressure. It seemed to last forever, and yet not nearly long enough. And when it was over Tashin continued to shiver, little aftershocks still coursing through his body. They clung to each other, embracing, laying back on the bed. Tashin's heart was still beating erratically, and his breath came fast and labored. He made a small sound when Tavian slipped from his body slowly. They pressed their foreheads together, and Tavian kissed Tashin slowly, sweetly. The younger twin tried to return the gesture through the hazy feeling in his veins. He found himself touching Tavian's face as he continued to cradle him between his legs.

After a time Tavian pulled them both back up the bed and under the covers, his hands continuing to wander Tashin's body as if entranced and wanting to ensure that he was well. Tashin felt strange, lightheaded, and wobbly. He drew himself as close to Tavian as he could, cuddling with him as they had done when they were younger and he was frightened at night by some bad dream or from the sounds of their father and Zalmon fighting. Tavian ran his fingers through Tashin's hair as his younger twin rested his head on his chest. He kissed the crown of his dark head, still hardly able to believe they had made love... "I love you, Tash," he murmured.

"Mmm," Tashin murmured in response and then he was asleep.

Tavian sat on the edge of his bed, long black hair undone, falling across his forehead and down around his shoulders and back. He squinted into the early morning light as it filtered in through the windows from the balcony. He looked back over his shoulder at Tashin's still sleeping form and then away again. What had he done? What had they both done? Had they really made love? Had he really despite all of his better judgment promised Tashin that he would take him with him into the city to become what he himself had become?

Perhaps he could leave before Tashin woke...

Warm fingers close around his wrist and he looked back at Tashin once more, startled. His twin was looking up at him flushed from sleep with hooded eyes and tousled black locks. Tavian felt all his resolve dissipate in an instant. "Good morning," Tashin said a little blearily.

"Hi," Tavian responded with a soft smile.

Tashin pushed himself up from the sheets and leaned himself against Tavian's back, pressing his cheek to the back of his neck. He ran his hands slowly over Tavian's shoulders and down the defined lines of his arms. "You're awake early... considering," he chuckled and kissed the juncture of Tavian's neck and shoulder.

Tavian sighed softly, closing his eyes, relishing being touched by his twin in this manner. "I'm used to waking with the sun."

Tashin giggled. "Really? I always remember you being so lazy in the morning and wanting to sleep in every day."

"Heh. I guess a lot of things have changed."

Tashin pulled him back and pushed him down onto his back. With a chuckle Tavian swung his legs back onto the bed and situated himself so that he could look up into Tashin's face, brushing his hair aside. "Will you tell me about it?" Tashin asked seriously.

Tavian blinked, his eyes going distant for a moment. He shook his head slowly. "Tell you about what?"

Tashin wrinkled his nose. "About your life since... since you were barred from the estate. I should have some idea of what I'm getting into, right?"

Tavian groaned and closed his eyes. "Tashin..."

"You promised," he hissed, and then more sweetly, leaning down to place a kiss at the corner of Tavian's mouth, dusting his fingertips over Tavian's chest, "You swore on our lovemaking that you would take me with you, that you'd never leave me."

"I know," Tavian replied, trying to sound annoyed, but managing only to sigh softly as Tashin's fingers moved over his nipple. "I'm just afraid for you."

"Why?" Tashin asked pulling back to look Tavian squarely in the eyes.

"Because you're the most precious thing in the world to me, and I don't want you to go through what I did."

"I won't have to, you'll be with me. And I'm not afraid to work hard and to get stronger. I won't be nothing but a burden to you. I can learn the things that you have. I want to," Tashin said earnestly. He splayed his hand over Tavian's heart, and then trailed it over his chest to rest over the scar in the center.

Tavian searched his twin's face and then pulled him into a kiss. "You are never a burden to me. And as far as learning what I have... if you're talking about becoming a rogue... I can't guarantee that my mentors will agree to train you. You have to earn that on your own."

Tashin nodded slowly. "But even if they don't accept me to train me, I can still be with you, right?"

Tavian ran his hand through Tashin's hair. "I rent a very small room in a communal dormitory beneath Murder Row. Many of the others there have become like family to me, and you don't have to be a rogue in the city's service to stay there, no."

Tashin could not help but smile slyly. "You're in the service of the city?"

Tavian chuckled. "We take contracts, some of them are official."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Those of us training under Zelanis I guess. It's not a formal 'we', I mean we're free to come a go, it's not like a guild or anything. It's just... mutually beneficial sometimes to work together and look out for each other."

"Do you like your life there?" Tashin asked softly.

"Yes," Tavian replied without hesitation. "I was always nearly mad with missing you, but other than that I wouldn't trade it for the life of a pampered noble again."

Tashin's eyes sparkled. "When do we leave?"

"The sooner the better. We should go before Zalmon wakes and has a chance to cause a scene." With that Tavian sat himself up and gave Tashin a push towards the far side of the bed. "Pack a small bag. Just bring your simplest clothing. Half an hour and I want you back here."

Tashin wiggled out of the bed and blushed when he remembered that he was still completely naked. He covered himself with his hands and cleared his throat. "Can I have my pants? Please?"

Tavian raised an eyebrow at his twin and gave him a rueful smile, taking the opportunity to rest back on his forearms and just look at him. Tashin turned an even deeper shade of red and started to fidget, pursing his lips together in amused aggravation. "Come on!" he cried at last, grabbing a pillow with one hand and throwing it at Tavian with a giggle.

"Oh I suppose," Tavian sighed, leaning over the edge of the bed and snagging the discarded pants. He tossed them across the bed with a grin. "But only because I don't want anyone else looking at you."

True to the mark it was half and hour later when Tashin reentered Tavian's room, dressed simply in a linen shirt, gray vest, and smooth leather breeches. Tashin was waiting on the balcony with a very small pack that had nothing but his alchemy supplies in it. After all it was the only thing he'd shown up with. Tashin came up behind him. "I'm ready."

Tavian turned around and smiled thinly. "Good." The sun was now up over the wall that stood between the two halves of the city casting pale light over the lip.

Tashin returned the smile and then fidgeted. "I don't suppose..."

"Hm?"

"Do you have any of the elixir made?" he asked haltingly. "I just... want to make sure that I don't have an attack or something."

Tavian was surprised, Tashin had seemed to be feeling well. He raised his eyebrows, but then nodded. "Of course. In my pack. I suppose it is better safe that sorry."

He fished the purple liquid filled vial out of his pack and handed it to Tashin and then watched his twin drink it quickly with closed eyes. The sigh of relief he issued after swallowing made Tavian draw his brows together for a moment, but then he pushed the concern away as he took the vial back and Tashin gave him a dazzling smile. "Let's go." Tavian could not help but chuckle and he pulled Tashin to him on impulse and kissed him soundly.

The broken roadway that let up to Farstrider Square was still in shadows, the sun still not high enough to reach, as their identical figures moved down it quickly until they were out of sight of the estate and out through the city gates.


	5. Addiction

Addiction

Addiction 

After two months living on the rebuilt side of Silvermoon City it became clear to Tashin that he was never going to get completely used to it. It was not that he could not learn to navigate the streets and even most of the strange remnants of the old city that lay beneath the new construction. His problem was not geography, it was population. And it boggled his mind to think that those who lived now in Silvermoon City were but a tiny fraction of the population the Quel'dorei had boasted before the invasion. To him, one who had spent most of his life secluded from the world outside of his family's estate, even a few strange faces in the street seemed like an enveloping crush of people. Still, he prefered his new life of relative freedom to his old life of seclusion. He felt most secure when he was with Tavian, could walk close to him, or losely grip the back of his tunic as they walked through the Bazaar. He was much more cautious of others than his brother who greeted all strangers with the word "friend." Perhaps it was because he knew the dark, manipulative properties of his own soul and suspected them in the faces they met as his brother never would.

The "room" that Tavian rented was really no more than an alcove curtained off from a larger central room which was divided into more smaller areas which were in turn either rented or treated like communal space for the residents. There were many places like this beneath the streets of the city. They were remnants of the old Silvermoon, buried and built over, but still accessable from the streets or through the basements of the new buildings. It was in these places that the dispossessed of the Sindorei found themselves creating almost hive-like communities. And although matters such as ownership for such places might have seemed problematic there was always a landlord or landlady, usually whoever had the most muscle at their disposal. It just so happened that Zelanis, the rogue trainer, "owned" the dormitory in which most of his pupils rented space. Not everyone who lived there was a rogue in training, but they were all adrift, bereft of whatever lives they had lived before the coming of the Scourge and the corruption of the Sunwell, and that gave them as much in common as they would ever need to be the closest thing to family many of them had. Tashin kept most of them at arm's length, keeping to himself even as he trained with some of them under Zelanis and his other trainers. It was yet another thing that set him and his social brother apart. Despite Tavian's doubts Tashin had been accepted almost immediately into the fold, and as long as he paid like everyone else he was trained. True to his nature it was discovered that Tashin had quite a knack for the subtler arts of a rogue: sneaking, pickpocketing, eavesdropping, etc. He could make himself so innocuous seeming as to be completely invisible. Tavian's skills lay along a more ruthless line, something that was probably born of necessity, and which Tashin secretly felt Zelanis took advantage of. It always made him wonder what sorts of things Tavian was doing when he was away under contract. The training of their divergent skills, and the fact that Tashin was not yet skilled enough to take any jobs of his own without someone with him had left them spending far more time apart than Tashin had expected. Tashin did little but train and run errands while Tavian did... whatever it was that Tavian was told to do.

Tashin knelt in their room which was comprised of a very small space that housed a mattress pushed up against the wall and a very small, very low table between the mattress and the curtain on which a candle sat. It was at this table that Tashin knelt writing a letter to Zalmon in small, cramped, perfect characters. He had been corresponding consistently with his brother and sister-in-law, and though at first Zalmon's letters had been rage-filled and consisted of little other than demands to return home at once, he now seemed to have accepted the fact that Tavian and Tashin were not going to acquiesce and that Tashin was in no immediate danger of falling dead. In fact now his letters were mostly filled with requests for information from the city and sent the twins on errands to "serve House Dorthonion" and even do a little spying on the family's rivals. As long as one or the other did as Zalmon asked, their older brother saw fit to send him and Tavian an allowance. He was penning the last few lines when the curtain was pulled back and Tavian entered.

Tashin looked up at his twin and smiled, but then drew his eyebrows together a bit. Tavian looked disheveled and pale, and he had been gone for over a day. "Where have you been?"

Tavian looked down at Tashin for a long moment and then started pulling off his boots which were muddy. "Nowhere."

Tashin tsked and stood up, his knees bumping the little table and making the curtain flutter. Standing the two of them occupied almost the entire bare space between the mattress and the curtain. "Off on some secret assignment for Zelanis?"

"Tash, don't start," Tavian said, kicking his boots up against their packs which were lined against the wall.

"I'm just worried about you. You look strained..." he reached up to touch Tavian's cheek, and found himself being grabbed by the wrist and jerked sharply up against his brother, not that he had far to go in the small space. Tavian's lips sealed over his forcefully, his hands coming to Tashin's face to hold it in place. He gave into the kiss, opening his mouth to his twin, used to Tavian's occasional assaultive moods. It wasn't until he breathed and realized that Tavian's hands smelled like blood that he jerked, pulling back.

"Don't pull away," Tavian breathed, reaching to pull him back.

"Tave..."

Tavian nuzzled the sensitive place beneath Tashin's ear, breathing him in deeply. "I need you."

Biting his lip Tashin let Tavian push him down onto the mattress, and within moments they were half dressed making hurried, desperate love. Tashin had learned how to keep himself quiet, biting back his moans and cries. Keeping his lips locked with Tavian's helped, but when it was like this it never lasted long in any case. Over the past two months it seemed to Tashin that he and Tavian had made love in every way imaginable, though to be honest it could not always be called love making. Tavian had even suggested more than once that Tashin take him, but Tashin had never agreed. It wasn't that he didn't think he would enjoy it, he knew he would. But he also knew that it would change something between them, that it would somehow mean that he held less power over Tavian, and that was not something he was willing to give up just yet.

Spasming upward with a soft gasp and a cry that died in his throat Tashin felt the familiar wash of release and the wet, equally familiar pressure of Tavian coming inside of him. His fingernails left shallow, red tracks on Tavian's back. His hands moved slowly up into Tavian's long, dark, cool hair relishing the feeling of it between his fingers as Tavian lay fully on top of him, gathering him in his arms and pressing his cheek to his chest. They remained joined, Tashin's legs wrapped tightly around Tavian's back.

"Are you well, brother?" Tashin asked softly.

"I'm fine now," Tavian replied. He was silent for a few long moments. "Your heart is beating very fast."

Tashin could not help but chuckle softly, a little sardonically. "That's nothing new."

"You're taking the elixir?"

"Always," Tashin responded. "The raw leaves help, too. Navrim gave me some. I felt really good afterwards."

Tavian was silent. And then finally said, "Tashin, everyone feels really good after taking Bloodthistle." He propped himself up on his elbows and looked into Tashin's eyes. "I've told you that stuff is dangerous. I know a lot of us down here use it, and even I've taken it a few times, but promise me you won't do it often, and only if you're feeling really bad."

Tashin balked and flushed, chafing under the feeling of being treated like a child once again by his older twin. "It helps me. And I'm not taking it all the time. I'm not some slip-head, Tavian."

"I know that," Tavian replied. "It's just easy to get caught up." He rocked his hips forward, watching Tashin's face change from consternation to surprised pleasure, flushing now for a different reason as his twin began to grow hard within him once again. "And since you've been feeling so well I might as well take advantage of it, hm?"

Tashin did not respond save to whimper as Tavian continued to press into him deeply. When Tavian began to kiss and nip his neck, Tashin turned his face to the side, watching the flame of the single candle with dazed, distant eyes.

Yet more months passed, and when Tavian was away Tashin often amused himself by practicing his skills in the streets. Even though he disliked being around so many people, it was somehow immensely comforting to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. He enjoyed pickpocketing, not so much for making money, but just because it was always interesting to see what other people kept close to themselves, what they held dear. At first he had been surprised to find that so many of the city's inhabitants kept Bloodthistle on them, either in the form of dried leaves in small pouches so that it could be mixed with hot water to make a kind of tea or simply the raw leaves for chewing. But eventually he came to expect finding it on others and could even pick out those that were most likely to have it. They always had either a slightly on-edge jitteryness about them or a still, mild euphoria. It all just depended on which stage of the herb's influence they were under. Tashin was not sure why he liked to pick these people out as marks. He really had no intention of keeping the herb for himself, and at first would take it back to the dormitory and pass it out to the other residents or leave it on one of the tables in the communal living space. But after a while he decided that he wanted to keep some of it on hand for himself, just in case. He did not tell Tavian about the Bloodthistle or the fact that his attacks were growing worse and more frequent and that it seemed that now the elixir or the Bloodthistle herb were the only things that made it feel better. If an attack started after a long, exhausting day of training he could no longer simply rest or sleep it off. A few times he tried to resist the urge to take the elixir or the herb, but found that his heart only continued to beat faster and harder, his chest squeezing and constricting so tightly it became hard to breath as he lay sweating, doubled up on himself on the small mattress in the alcove until he gave in. So once in a while he made Bloodthistle tea from the saved leaves and did not tell Tavian, because he told himself that he did not want his twin to have any more excuses to worry about him. For the same reason he could not ask Tavian directly for the herb, even though he knew he could easily find and gather it with his skills as an herbalist, and thus he continued to pickpocket the people of Silvermoon City and little by little squirrel away their Bloodthistle.

As his abilities and confidence grew Tashin also began to explore his skills of manipulation. He would pick a mark and observe them for some time at a distance, until he had formed an idea of how best to approach them. Keeping in mind both his training and what he had learned from Zalmon. At first he was not always successful, and found himself misjudging others or jumping to incorrect conclusions. But over time he honed the subtle art and soon more often than not he was able to get what he wanted out of others. He found that pretending to be someone or something that he was not made it infinitely easier to approach and interact with people. It was like he was under a cloak that he could see out of, but others could not see through. His own self was safely hidden away, untouchable by outsiders, preserved and pure. It was like he could make himself believe it was almost someone else entirely that was doing these things and interacting with these people. Tashin Stormcaller, son of House Dorthonion, was simply an observer of Tashin the rogue, common thief.

It was late in the afternoon and Tashin was moving across the Bazaar, head down, posture relaxed. No one seemed to notice him as he mingled in with a crowd of people listening to two Sindorei debate about the courses of action their people were taking. One porclaimed that Prince Kael'thas was their eminent and most holy leader, that he would lead them to their destiny, free them of their addictions, and secure for them their rightful place among the exalted of all people. They had only to wait for his return, follow his instructions, and serve him without question and their destinies were secure. The other conceded that while the Prince may have the best interests of his people at heart, though even this was questionable, that the Sindorei needed to take their destiny into their own hands, repair their fractured society and allegiances, and find a way to cope with their magical addictions themselves before they led to the utter degradation of their people as a whole. The debate went back and forth, and most of the people in the crowd seemed to watch with only mild interest, standing there simply because there was something to listen to. A few however seemed fervently enraptured by the debate and went so far as to vocalize their approval or disapproval of the speakers. It was one of these men that became Tashin's mark.

He was tall, quite a bit taller than Tashin. His hair was a deep blood red and was combed back from his face, falling down his back. He had a graceful slant to his body despite the defined lines of muscle that Tashin could see beneath his clothing. His shirt was almost the same color as his hair, and partially covered by a tabard, the black and red tabard of the Blood Knights. Messing with one of the Order was a gamble, and not always a particularly good idea. Drawing attention to himself from a paladin who served the city could put more than himself in jeopardy. But in Tashin's experience Blood Knights went one of two ways. They were either die-hard power fanatics or bleeding-heart throwbacks to the old days. Considering that this paladin was heckling the supporter of Kael'thas and agreeing with the advocate of change, he was fairly sure this was a throwback. Of course the other gamble, especially with male targets, was that they would not be drug in by Tashin's pretty face. Although as he had learned over time that his face was just pretty enough to drag in most people at least momentarily despite whatever their general sexual proclivities. He bided his time, moving towards the man slowly in the crowd, waiting for the right moment. With a small gasp and a very well feigned trip, Tashin stumbled against the paladin, bumping into him and tripping again, about to fall over as he deftly lifted the small bag from his belt, tucking it into his sleeve as his arms windmilled slightly...

Strong hands caught him, halting his fall and pulling him upright. Tashin's hands reached out to steady himself on the taller man's chest. "Watch it there," the man said, with a strange chuckle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tashin gasped, looking around a little bewildered. "I think man pushed me." He looked at his hands on the paladin's chest and made sure that they framed the red sigil of the Blood Knights. With a small gasp, hands coming to his mouth, he stepped back. "Oh, you're a Blood Knight," he breathed. "How rude of me, please forgive me."

The paladin gave him a long funny look, that almost made Tashin decide it was best to cut his losses and disappear back into the crowd as fast as possible, but then the red-haired man shook his head slightly and nodded, still looking a bit confused. "Yes, I am a paladin, but please don't apologize. It's not as if it was your fault. This crowd is full of uncouth people."

Tashin thought there might have been a smirk at the very corner of the paladin's mouth, but could not be sure. He faltered slightly, taking another step back. "I just... I don't want to be disrespectful of those that keep our people safe."

The paladin smiled softly. "The Order does it's part, but there are plenty of others who do as much."

Tashin nodded, looking down at his feet, blushing very slightly. "I suppose that's true. I guess I just think that paladins sacrifice the most. You have to work so hard to master the Light." The crowd moved around them slightly as someone passed through it and Tashin took the opportunity to step closer to the paladin, putting himself just on the fringe of his personal space.

"It was easier once," the paladin said, his voice flat, looking down at Tashin with eyes that had hardened slightly.

Tashin looked up at him and then nodded hastily, looking away. "I guess I don't really know anything about it. I didn't mean to presume anything... I should go, I was just passing through the crowd, excuse me for bothering you." He began to turn away, but suddenly felt iron-like fingers close around his wrist and was jerked back close to the paladin. He gasped, truly surprised. Getting away was usually one of the easy parts. The fingers around his wrist began to work their way into his sleeve and Tashin's eyes went wide. Shit.

"Because I don't want to embarrass or expose you in front of all of these people, I'm simply going to take this back," he said his voice so low and close to his ear that only Tashin could hear it. Tashin felt the little bag slip from his sleeve and into the paladin's hand, and then he was released and the red-haired man was the one moving away, turning into the crowd. Tashin stared after him in disbelief, feeling completely naked. This man had seen through his disguise of person, and stripped it from him leaving him without its protection. He was about to simply let himself dissolve into the crowd, flustered and dazed, when the paladin turned halfway around "Oh and Tashin, say hello to Tavian for me, won't you?" And with that he was gone.

Tashin's eyes went wide, his heart jumping up three speeds in a second. Anxiety came over him like he had never felt before. All these people could have heard, they could all know his name, they could all see him. He was stripped not only of his disguise, but of his anonymity in that moment. This man had seen through every part of him, and it left Tashin feeling violated by his very gaze. How had he known him? How did he know anything about him? Gulping for breath Tashin turned and ran through the crowd, eliciting a few curses as he shouldered his way through and ran all the way back to the dormitory beneath Murder Row. A few of the residents called out to him, alarmed, but he brushed them off, running to the tiny space he shared with Tavian and shutting himself there, collapsing onto the mattress. His chest hurt like it had not in a very a long time, and his limbs were trembling. Gritting his teeth he forced himself to get back up and look for some of Tavian's elixir, but could not find any. Desperately he turned to his pack where he kept his pilfered herbs and shoved a rather withered looking leaf into his mouth, chewing on it furiously as he flopped back onto the mattress. For a few long moments nothing seemed to happen and then Tashin's nerves began to calm, but his heart rate did not. The feel of it pounding in his chest became distant and spots began to dance before Tashin's eyes. A few moments later Tashin seized for the first time since he was a child, his body spasming of its own accord before finally falling still. No one was there to see it happen, and unconcious by the time it was over Tashin would not remember the experience on waking, infact when he woke a few hours later with the taste of blood in his mouth from where he had bitten himself and wiped dried foam from the corners of his lips he would remember almost nothing about that afternoon at all.

When Tavian returned in the evening Tashin was still sitting dazedly on the bed feeling drained and lethargic. He had not lit the candle and sat in near darkness, staring blankly into space.

"Tash?" Tavian called, squinting into the gloom.

"Hm," Tashin replied.

"Why are you sitting here in the dark?" Tavian asked, holding the curtain back so that he could have enough light to kneel and light the candle before letting it fall closed. He looked intently at his twin.

Tashin looked at him, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know."

Tavian peered at him carefully. "You don't look very good. Have you been training too hard? What did you do today?"

Tashin blinked and opened his mouth and then blinked again. "I... don't know. I think I slept..."

"Let me get you something to eat," Tavian said, his concern evident in his voice.

"I'm not hungry. Can I... can I just lie down with you?"

Tavian pressed his lips together and nodded, crawling up onto the mattress and pulling Tashin down and into his arms gingerly. "If you promise me that you'll eat something in a little bit."

Tashin pressed his cheeck to Tavian's chest, wrapping his arms loosely around him. "I promise." Within a few moments he was asleep.

Tavian ran his fingers absently through Tashin's hair, kissing the crown of his head. Something was happening to his twin, and he didn't know what it was, but it frightened him. It was then that he looked around and noticed the discheveled state of their packs and the small, open box on the top of Tashin's especially. There was no mistaking the distinctive leaves poking out, and Tavian frowned heavily and then sighed, thumping his head back against the mattress. "Damn it, Tashin."

When Tashin woke later that evening he was alone on the mattress. He could see Tavian sitting with his back to him at the small table on the floor. Propping himself up he called out to him, "Tave?"

"Are you feeling better?"

Tashin did a self check. Was he feeling better? He thought that he must be. He was at least thinking clearly. "I think so."

"Good. So now you can tell me what in the twisting nether this is?" Tavian turned and tossed the small box that housed Tashin's stash of Bloodthistle in it to him, giving him an accusing glare.

Tashin looked down at the little box, mouth open. "It's just... I've been lifting it, and saving some for when I feel ill..."

"Were you ill this afternoon?" Tavian asked harshly.

Tashin closed his eyes and tried to remember. He recalled the Bazaar and something... red. That exposed feeling... running. "I... I think so. I don't know for sure, I can't remember."

"Because it was open when I got here. Have you been taking it regularly? Tashin tell me the truth."

Tashin looked up and then down again, still fighting to think straight. "No! Only when I feel ill. I had an attack this afternoon, I'm sure I did. I wouldn't have taken it otherwise."

Tavian gave him a long hard look. "This is my fault," he said at last.

"What? What's your fault, nothing's happened."

Tavian shook his head. "I gave you the elixir, I exposed you to this place and theivery..."

"I did those things because I wanted to!" Tashin cried. "Stop treating me like you make all my choices. I can do things on my own without your counsel!"

"Apparently, because you haven't been telling me anything, Tashin!" Tavian yelled, his face going stony. The two twins stared at each other for a time and then Tavian stood up suddenly. "Do what you want. You're right I can't control you." He moved as if to leave the tiny room, but Tashin reached out and grabbed the calf of his pants.

"No wait, Tavian," he said a bit pitifully. "Please, I swear I haven't been taking it regularly. At least not for fun, not just to take it. But it's... it's the only thing that helps. I don't know if it's an addiction or if it just helps, but please... You know what it's like to want something, to need something you can only get from one source."

Tavian looked down at his twin, at his pleading, hollow eyes, his dishevled hair, every beloved line of his body, and he knew that Tashin was right. He knew what it was like to want something he shouldn't want, to have something he shouldn't have, and to not care about either of those things, because when he had it it was the only thing that made him feel well. His Tashin, his beloved, adored twin. "Tash, don't look at me like that. You know I can't resist you."

"Then stop trying to resist. You need me, don't you?"

Tavian fell to his knees on the mattress, pushing Tashin back gently. "More than anything," he breathed, lips sealing over his twin's in a kiss that made him feel as weak and shaky as Tashin looked. They kissed slowly, tenderly. "You are my addiction," he whispered against Tashin's long, perfect ear.

"And I would never keep myself from you," Tashin responded, nuzzling Tavian's cheek.

"But... I can't protect you from this, Tashin... It could kill you in your condition."

"I could die without it in my condition. Either way I'm stuck, Tavian. This is the body I was born with. Let me live with it as best I can."

Tavian kissed him again, dusting light, earnest kisses over his lips and face. "I can't lose you."

"You never will. I'm yours, always."

"Don't do anything stupid," Tavian hissed.

Tashin smiled weakly, taking his brother's face in his hands and pushing it up. "No. I leave that up to you, dear heart."


	6. Favors

Favors

Tavian slumped against the wall, holding his arm tightly around his ribs, pressing against the gash in his side and favoring his left ankle, which he was fairly certain was broken. He was panting in pain and fatigue, but he forced himself to remain standing as he waited for Zelanis. The older rogue was examining the object he had sent Tavian to steal for him. The object he had, once again, ended up killing over. Not that the previous owner had made it easy. Tavian's bloodied clothes and battered body were testament to that. The thing wrapped in the dirty silk scarf that Tavian had been so explicitly instructed to obtain was nothing more impressive than a small wooden box as far as Tavian could tell, but Zelanis was looking at it with a distant, greedy glint in his eye. He set the small item aside and then looked up at Tavian over the table he used as a makeshift desk. "You came through for me, again. I'm very pleased," he gave Tavian a once over, "though it looks like you may have gotten a little sloppy."

Tavian tried to stand up straighter, holding his head high. "Things don't always go the way we plan, Zelanis," he said, sucking air through his teeth as his ankle gave a particularly sharp protest. "But I took care of things."

"You know if these sorts of delicate matters aren't your forte, Tavian, I could always give these kinds of jobs to someone else... I've heard that Tashin is developing quite the knack for subtlety. Strictly speaking he might make a better thief-"

"No!" Tavian snapped, before he could stop himself, and then bit his tongue. It was not a good idea to raise his voice to Zelanis, the man he owed his life and livlihood to, and he was not a good man to cross, but more than he feared Zelanis, Tavian feared what Zelanis might eventually make Tashin do. "I mean," he swallowed, "Tashin isn't ready. He's weak and... he needs medicine frequently. He's more suited to smaller things. Spying and pickpocketing. I can take care of this kind of thing for you, Zelanis. I'll be more careful. I promise I left no sign of myself, and I took care of the previous owner..."

Zelanis grinned at Tavian wolfishly, walking towards him with a distinctive swagger. Tavian felt his pulse quicken as Zelanis drew closer, and had to force himself not to flinch away when the blond rogue took his face in one hand. "I can't tell," he said huskily, leaning in towards Tavian, "if you are trying to protect him, or if you really just love the opportunity to kill for me that much. I think it's probably the former, but the later excites me so much more."

Tavian forced himself to meet Zelanis' cold eyes. "I just want to serve you, to repay you, and I don't trust anyone else to do it properly," he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Tavian owed Zelanis his life. When he had first been banned from the estate he had scrounged to survive in the ruins of the city, dodging and fighting the Wretched at every turn. He probably would have died of starvation or exposure if the rogue trainer had not found him and appreciated his already blossoming skills. Zelanis had trained him, fed him, clothed him, and given him a place to live along with many others who would have otherwise had nothing. He owed him a lot, and Zelanis reminded him of this fact frequently. He called it a "debt of duty", that is as long as Tavian relied in any way upon Zelanis' benevolence he also owed him is obedience, as did all of the rogues who trained beneath him. When he had returned to the Stormcaller estate this unspoken contract had become null, but now that both he and Tashin had come to live under Zelanis the debt was reinstated, as were Tavian's duties, doubly so as he sought to keep Zelanis from noticing Tashin's skills any more than he already had. He did not want Zelanis to believe that Tashin was capable of the kinds of things Tavian was, he did not want to put his beloved, gentle twin in any more danger than he already had.

"I am sure you are very attentive to serving me, Tavian," Zelanis drawled, and then snickered, pulling away, giving him an smirk. "But you look a bit worse for wear at the moment. I'll send for Elias."

Tavian tried to draw himself up again. "That's not necessary. I'll be fine. There is no need to send for him."

Zelanis raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tavian, you are bleeding on my floor and you can't even stand on your ankle. You're no good to me like that. So go lie down with your darling brother and wait for Elias to fix you." He waved his hand, turning his back on Tavian and dismissing him.

Curling his lip Tashin limped his way down to the rooms below, picking his way painfully across the common room. He did not want to see Elias, because he knew that the paladin would give him that disappointed 'what sorts of horrible things have you been doing now?' look. Tavian hated the way that look made him feel. It made him feel tainted somehow for being a rogue in a way that not even Zalmon's tyrades could accomplish. All Elias had to do was raise one of his elegant red eyebrows and purse his lips together and Tavian would wish he could disappear into the earth. Hobbling painfully Tavian pulled back the curtain and was relieved to see that Tashin was not there. His little brother would only have fussed and worried and made a scene. At least now Tavian could get himself somewhat cleaned up before he had to see either Tashin or Elias. With a grunt he sat himself down on the bed and began the arduous task of getting his boots off.

Halfway out of his clothing Tavian gave up and flopped back onto the bed, almost immediately dozing off. He was awoken a while later by warm, gentle hands shaking him awake. "Tavian? Tavian." It took Tavian a moment to place the deep, soft voice that spoke his name. When he realized it belonged to Elias as did the face that slowly came into focus as Tavian opened his eyes, the young rogue sat up sharply, forgetting about the gash in his side and immediately regretting it, gritting his teeth in pain and making a small, miserable sound. Elias rocked back on his heels and gave Tavian a patient, but slightly irritated look. "Zelanis said you'd gotten yourself a little banged up. I see he wasn't joking."

Tavian looked at the older elf out of the corner of his eye. Elias Seregon had one of those faces you couldn't help but want to stare at. His skin was dusky and always seemed to radiate some inner glow which Tavian attributed to his status as a holy paladin. His lips were perfectly shaped and always parted ever so slightly in a subconcious sensuality that Tavian found intriguing. The lines of his face were fine and strong. Everything about him radiated a quiet, graceful strength. His blood-red hair seemed in complete opposition with his character, but despite this fact it was so very Elias. Tavian had know the paladin almost as long as he had know Zelanis. The rogue trainer and the holy paladin were old friends and had fought together in more than one war, the most recent being no exception. But where Zelanis had become disillusioned and turned his back on the status quo in order to live the life of a rogue and become a benefactor for Silvermoon's displaced, Elias had remained in his official capacity as a paladin serving the city guard. However he also served unofficially as physician when one of Zelanis' own was in need of some healing or 'fixing up' as he liked to say. Elias did not particularly approve of Zelanis' lifestyle, his livlihood, or those that chose to train under him, but he also was not the kind of person who could turn his back on an old friend or anyone that was in need. Thus, like so many people, he found himself rather helpless in his service to the older rogue. But what was most important about Elias to Tavian was that he was an alchemist, and that he had, after much harassment and some rather undignified begging, agreed to be Tavian's teacher in the art. He had yet to see him since Tavian returned from the estate.

"I told him it was nothing to be concerned with," Tavian grumbled as Elias leaned toward him and began to gently push him back down onto the bed. Tavian complied, finding the warm weight of Elias' heavy hand to be quite nice on his chest.

"Well, I think that makes you even more of an idiot than I usually give you credit for," Elias said softly, as he pushed Tavian's open shirt aside to prod at the gash in his side. Tavian grit his teeth, and then sighed softly as the painful prodding turned into the most beautiful feeling in the world as ribbons of light slowly poured form Elias' fingertips to infuse and heal the damaged flesh. And when his hands repeated this over his ankle Tavian actually had to stifle a moan of pseudo ecstacy. The healing filled his body with the most euphoric sense, something that was strangely akin to the postcoital. It made him shiver. Elias chuckled, weaving the healing spell as slowly as he could to draw out the fact that he could tease his young pupil in this way. Everyone responded to the touch of the Light, it was just amusing to see one who was so starved for it respond so strongly.

Tavian lay dazedly on the bed, a smile across his lips. Elias stood and chuckled to himself. "There, aren't you glad that I came?"

"What's going on?" Tashin's voice clearly said from behind them. He was standing at the open curtain, his eyes darting between the prone, flushed, slightly breathless body of his brother on the bed and the tall red headed man standing over him.

Drawn from his reverie by the sound of his twin's voice Tavian pushed himself up onto his elbows and hastily looked over at him. His brows drew downward as he noted not only Tashin's confused and slightly accusatory expression, but also the dark hollows beneath his eyes and the even more drawn than usual lines of his beautiful face. _Oh, Tash, please don't be doing what I think you're doing... _His thoughts must have been plainly readable on his face, because Tashin suddenly colored, a bit angrily, and looked away, and then back to Elias.

"Who are you?" the younger twin snapped.

"Tash," Tavian broke in, "this is Elias Seregon, he's a friend of Zelanis. He's a holy paladin, sort of like our on-call physician. Elias, this is Tashin, my brother, the one you helped me develop the elixir for."

They regarded each other for a moment and Elias smiled a bit wryly. "Yes, we've actually met once before."

"You have?"

"We have?" Tashin gave the paladin a skeptical look. There was something about him... that color...

Elias raised one eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. "Yes, in the bazaar. At the public debate. You bumped into me..."

Tashin regarded the paladin narrowly. Yes... there was something about the bazaar... something about the red color of his hair... had that been the day he'd gotten so ill, when he'd argued with Tavian about- And then like a dam opened the full memory of that day came rushing back, and suddenly Tashin was staring at Elias with wide, startled eyes. That feeling of utter exposure came over him again and he took an unconscious step back. That was right! This was the man who had stripped him of his disguise, his anonymity, the one who had violated him with his eyes and sent him running in a panic that had brought on the attack... the attack that had led to... How could he have forgotten? How could he not have remembered that horrible, horrible day? Up until that point all he had been able to recall was waking and feeling so distinctly not himself, knowing he had taken the bloodthistle, but not really remembering why. Now he remembered, he remembered everything. He took another step back.

"Tash?" Tavian called a little worriedly.

Elias continued to look at Tashin, and the young rogue could not shake that terrible sense of being stripped and judged by those intense, emerald eyes. It was as if they could see past all of the facades, even the ones not even Tavian could see through. "Yes, I remember now," he said softly.

The paladin gave him a curious look. "Are you well, Tashin?" he asked, genuine concern in his voice. He had come to care greatly for Tavian, and so by proxy cared also about the welfare of his twin. He took a step towards the younger rogue, reaching out towards him. Tashin tried to back away, but in the crowded hodgepodge of the large common room there was not very far to go without bumping into a cushion or a curtain or a slow table. Unable to go anywhere he found himself facing the paladin nervously as the older Sindorei took his face in his hands, fingers questing like a doctor's to the back of his neck, down his throat to feel for swelling and his pulse. "Your heartbeat is thready."

Tashin blushed and doing so made him furious. "I have a bad heart," he snapped. Why was this man, this complete stranger who could look, uninvited, into his core touching him?

Tavian had emerged from the little alcove by this time and was standing at Elias' shoulder, looking worriedly at Tashin. "Is he alright?"

"Please stop it!" Tashin cried, trying to pull away, but Elias' hands had tightened and would not let him go. Tavian glanced from Tashin up to Elias, who seemed to be concentrating very hard.

A strange tingling sensation started to cause Tashin's skin to prickle into goose flesh and he whimpered as Elias' fingers began to glow warmly. He gasped as he felt himself slowly flood with the feeling, as if something inside of him was being singed away little by little. He felt his heart begin to pound frantically as the feeling intensified, and he cried out, trying to pull away. "Shhh," Elias soothed, still holding him in place. Tashin's hands gripped Elias' wrists tightly, and he gasped as his heart beat painfully, almost to the point where he was certain he was going to have an attack, but then he felt a white-hot rush all through his body and he could breath again, taking a sharp breath as Elias' hands fell away from his face.

Tashin wavered on his feet for a moment and then was caught by Tavian, who righted him. He felt clearheaded and strangely... well. Stranger still was that he was not sure he particularly liked the feeling. He could feel the eyes of the other occupants of the room upon them, and turned away brusquely, pushing through Tavian into their tiny room. He wanted only to be away from the sight of others.

Tavian was about to go after him when Elias caught his arm and pulled him around, back against the wall where they could speak in low tones and not be heard. He gave him a very serious look. "You've been giving him that elixir?"

Tavian blinked and nodded under the intensity of Elias' stare. "Every day."

Elias pursed his lips together. "He's taking it on his own as well, isn't he? The bloodthistle."

Tavian's mouth fell open, and he stammered for a moment. "No! Tashin isn't stupid-"

"You're lying to me, or you're lying to yourself," Elias said bluntly.

Tavian was speechless again and had to look away. "He says it helps stop the attacks. He says he only takes it when he feels ill..."

"That's what the elixir was supposed to be for, Tavian. It was never meant to be a regular medication. That drug is dangerous," the paladin hissed. "Why did you start giving it to him that often?!"

"I don't know! He just... he said he needed it, he asked for it..."

Elias reached up to touch a temple. "You don't think maybe that was a sign?"

Tavian pursed his lips and scowled. "He was getting better. He -is- better, and that elixir makes it possible."

"Tavian, your brother is addicted to bloodthistle!" Elias growled. "I can't cleanse it from his system completely. All I can do is to get rid of some of the symptoms and the after effects. A severe withdrawal could send him into cardiac arrest. Do you realize that, Tavian? He could be dependent the rest of his life. You've confounded his heart condition unforgivably!" His words were perhaps harsher than they needed to be, but the healer, the physician in Elias was outraged that his own pupil could have been so careless with the wellbeing of someone in his care.

Tavian stared at Elias wide-eyed and speechless. He felt his heart dropping into the pit of his stomach and his guts twisted sickeningly. He felt like he might vomit. What had he done? "What do I do?" he asked plaintively, grabbing Elias' arms.

The paladin seemed conflicted, looking from Tavian to the mostly hidden form of Tashin huddled on the mattress in the alcove beyond the fluttering curtain, and back again. Finally he seemed to come to a hard-made decision and sighed, giving Tavian a serious, stony look. "Bring him to me, to my estate, every week. He needs a physician to monitor his heart condition, another thing you saw fit to rob him of by getting him involved in this lifestyle of yours."

"He wanted to come with me!" Tavian barked.

"You should have known better than to allow that to happen."

"I did!" Tavian hissed. "But... he's not a child, I can't control him."

Elias gave Tavian a long, aprising glance. "No, I see that. But he seems to be doing a good job of controlling you."

Tavian balked. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Elias shook his head, looking away. "Just be aware of how you affection for your twin affects your judgment when it come to his welfare. That you have allowed this to go on, knowing that he is taking bloodthistle is testament-"

"Don't act like you understand -anything- about my relationship with him," Tavian snarled, still fighting to keep his voice low. "Don't talk about us like you know us well. You know nothing about Tashin."

Elias raised an eyebrow, his gaze narrowing. "Do you want my help, Tavian?"

Tavian swallowed and bit back his harsh words sheepishly. "Yes... If you can help Tashin, then of course."

"Then try to show a little appreciation and respect. The truth is not always easy to accept, but your little brother is not the innocent that you delude yourself into thinking he is." Tavian forced himself not to respond, allowing himself only a hasty, poisonous glance back at Elias' face. "Now," Elias continued, his voice more even, "will you do what I've said and bring him to see me regularly?"

Tavian nodded slowly.

"Good, then I have a favor to ask you in repayment."

When Tavian had agreed to Elias' terms, although a bit grudgingly the older paladin took his leave, poking his head around the curtain to bid farewell to a morose Tashin who barely acknowledged him with a nod, he returned to Tashin's side and sat down next to him. Tashin leaned sideways, tucking himself under Tavian's arm and burrowing into him. "I don't like him."

"Elias is a very good man," Tavian responded, kissing the top of Tashin's head. "He's the one who taught me about alchemy."

"He makes me feel so judged," Tashin murmured.

Tavian couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, he is a paladin. He wants to see you weekly. He says you need a physician, that ignoring your heart is a very bad idea. It could kill you, Tash."

"I know that!" Tashin snarled. "I don't want to see him."

"I don't care," Tavian replied evenly. "You asked me to bring you here, to take you with me, and I promised that I would and I also promised that I would protect you. I've only made things worse with your health since we left, and I can't protect you from that. But Elias can. You will go to see him."

Tashin shifted plaintively against his twin, placing his hand softly on his chest, leaning in to murmur against his neck. "But, Tave..." his breath tickled against his skin sensually, and Tavian had to close his eyes.

"Don't."

"Don't... what?" Tashin continued to murmur, nuzzling against him. "I just want to be close to you... Don't make me see him..."

Tavian grit his teeth and steeled himself. "Stop, Tash. I'm not going to give in. You're hurting yourself, and I can't let you do that anymore. I love you too much."

Tashin paused. This was first time Tavian had not given in to him, the first time he had resisted him since the first time they made love. This knowledge was not something that the younger twin liked. He had two choices: sulk transparently or accept defeat. If Tavian suspected his manipulation he would expect him to pout and draw away. Tashin softly kissed Tavian's neck. "Alright, I'll do as you say," he whispered. "Just please don't tell me to stop when all I want to be with you." He trailed his fingers over Tavian's neck and shoulder as he made his way into his lap. "And that has nothing to do with changing your mind." He smiled coyly as Tavian looked up at him satisfied by the misty longing in his emerald eyes, assured that acceptance was not defeat.

"You really don't have to follow me around, you know. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

Tavian sighed and chuckled simultaneously. "Lyritta, your brother has asked me to keep you out of harm's way at least until you have completed the first part of your training, and he's kind of doing me a huge favor in return. So as big of a girl as you may be, please stop trying to get me leave. Haven't I been good about staying out of your way?"

The young woman looked back at him over her shoulder. There was something slightly humorous about how tiny her frame was in comparison to the giant two-handed sword she had slung over one shoulder. There was a small speckle of blood on her cheek, but she didn't seem to notice. It was about the same color as her hair, which was cut short, but still framed her pretty, pixie-like face. As Elias' only living relative, Lyritta Seregon often felt the full brunt of her elder brother's protective nature. The entirity of their house, save for themselves, had perished in the Scourge's invasion. Elias had survived because he was at the front, fighting to the south when the city fell, and Lyritta had somehow escaped the notice of the maddened and slavering undead, hiding in the ruins of their crumbled estate. The story was quite sad, as were many stories that came from the destruction of Quel'thalas, but Lyritta had turned out to be a remarkably good natured and happy young woman despite whatever horrors she may have witnessed or experienced. Tavian had met her a few times before he became her offcial body-guard, the "favor" that Elias had asked of him in return for tending to Tashin. Eager to impress her elder brother and follow in his footsteps, Lyritta had finally gotten his permission to begin training as a Blood Knight. Watching her hack and chop her way through the various tasks appointed to her by her trainers Tavian had to admit that whatever she lacked in style she certainly made up for in zeal. Though he could definately see how Elias would be worried about her. The girl seemed to have almost no regard for her own safety as she often took on a few more opponents than she may have been able to handle had Tavian not been there to execute a few well-placed back stabs.

Lyritta wrinkled her nose and considered. "Yeah, I suppose. 'Sides I'm nearly done for the day. In fact... I am done for the day." She strapped the sword which was still rather gore-covered to her back and started jogging back towards the road that would take them back into the city proper. Tavain raised his eyebrow and then with a sigh trailed after her. He watched her pretty little rear and narrow waist with a small smirk on his lips, unable to help himself. No harm in looking... but then again if Elias ever caught him looking there may be quite a bit of harm in it... for Tavian.

"Race you!" he called and then sprinted past her, tearing past the guards who didn't even bother to look after him.

"No fair! I wear mail armor!" Lyritta called after him with an enfuriated little huffing sound.

The rogue ran laughing all the way to the steps of the small estate that Elias owned. Lyritta was not far behind, moving quite quickly despite her heavy armor. They bumbled through the front door and through the narrow, polished hallways and out into the small inner cloister set in the center of the estate. Tavian paused to look back over his shoulder, but soon found himself sprawled painfully on the stones as Lyritta tackled him still in her full armor and soon had him pulled into a headlock.

"Now who's beating who?" she ground out a bit manically, giving his neck a good squeeze.

"Arrgh!" Tavian kind of burbled. He had been completely unprepared for the attack, jesting or otherwise, and was somewhat ashamed to find that he was having as difficult time of it as he was with the fledgling paladin girl.

"I see you are taking your studies very seriously," Elias' voice called from somewhere above them. Lyritta immediately let go of Tavian's neck and he collapsed with a gulp of air onto the stones for a moment before looking up. Elias and Tashin were both looking down on them from the upper balcony that wound around the second story of the estate and overlooked the inner cloister. Tavian couldn't help but throw Tashin a rueful grin, but his brother just rolled his eyes. He was always in a bad mood after he had to see Elias. The pair pulled away from the balcony to go inside and a few moments later had come out onto the cloister.

Lyritta had already gotten to her feet and was eargerly going to ther brother's side. He smiled at her fondly and ruffled her hair which she seemed torn between resenting and relishing. Elias then made a face, turning her around by the shoulder so that he could see her back. "'Ritta, you really need to take better care of your gear. Your sword hasn't even been cleaned yet."

"But I just got home, and-!"

"You had enough time to horseplay. Go clean up before I make dinner," he said, with an arched eyebrow.

Tavian watched the exchange and then watched Lyritta's back as she huffed off. He sidled up to Tashin and surpticiously slipped his hand against the small of his twin's back, dipping his fingers just below the band of his leather pants. Tashin gave a little start, gasping softly at the intimate touch. He blushed inspite of himself, unable to keep from coloring yet more deeply when Tavian leaned closer and murmured. "How are you feeling? You look wonderful."

"I feel fine," he said, trying to sound petulant, but not quite managing as Tavian's fingertips tickled his flesh. "I think maybe I'd like to lie down, though. We should go."

Elias turned to look at them. He gave Tashin a narrow once over and pursed his lips. "Before you do, Tavian, do you mind if I have a word?"

The older rogue looked from his twin who was now scowling slightly to Elias before looking back at Tashin once more. "Do you mind?"

Tashin shook his head. "It's fine. I'll just sit down here." He pulled away from Tavian and sat himself on the lip of the small fountain at the center of the cloister.

"I'll be right back," Tavian said, and then followed Elias back into the house.

Tashin watched his twin go, wishing he could call out to him and tell him not to. He hated thingking that they were going to talk about him. He hated thinking of Tavian alone with the red headed paladin, though he didn't know why he should. Perhaps it was because Elias always had good things to say about Tavian, and that he was just slightly more protective of him than Tashin liked. He wondered if what he was feeling was jealously and scowled at the thought. Why should he be jealous? Tavian loved him, and him alone. He did have a wandering eye... but this had never bothered Tashin before. Even knowing that Tavian might be sleeping with others had not really bothered him. But for some reason thinking about such things in relation to Elias did. Maybe it was just because he disliked the paladin so strongly already. Despite the fact that his weekly appointments with him had been helping him to clear his head and make both his attacks and his addiction somehow more manageable, he could never get past that feeling of being seen through, or being judged. He could not be comfortable around Elias, because he could not be anyone but himself... all other disguises were seen through.

His thoughts were broken by a loud voice suddenly very near. "Oh there you are! I really had you beat before!"

Tashin looked up, squinting against the sun at the figure of Lyritta before him. Though he had seen and met her in passing he had not spent any real amount of time with her as Tavian had done. "Excuse me?"

"Before, when I had you in that head lock!"

Tashin blinked and shook his head. "You're talking about my better half, I think," he said with a tired little smile.

Lyritta furrowed here eyebrows and leaned closer. "Oh! You're not Tavian."

Tashin had to smile at this. It had been some time since anyone had mistaken them for each other. Usually the difference in their health was striking enough to firmly set them apart. Maybe his time with Elias was a good thing after all... He shook his head. "No, I'm not. I'm Tashin, the sweet one," he said with a grin.

Lyritta sat herself down on the stones before him and put her chin in her hands, peering up at him. "No... I think you're the sneaky one," she said, sticking her tongue out slightly.

Tashin was taken aback by this and actually flinched back slightly, eyes wide. What was it about the Seregon's that just cut right through him? He blinked and then chuckled shallowly. "Well... I guess I could be sneaky -and- sweet."

Lyritta smiled. "Yes, I suppose you could."

They sat in silence for a few moments neither exactly sure what to say. "So... you live with your brother then?" Tashin asked. "You're training to be a paladin like him?"

Lyritta grinned very broadly and then scowled. "Yes! But oh, he makes me so mad sometimes!"

Tashin chuckled. "I think all older brothers are like that."

"He just doesn't understand that I'm not a little girl anymore. He's always trying to take care of me and protect me and do what's right for me, but I can take care of myself! He's never going to let me do anything if he gets his way." She sulked a bit.

Tashin smiled a little wearily. Yes, he knew how that felt. "I'm sure it's not that bad. And like I said all older brothers are like that. You think Tave doesn't treat me like a child sometimes? And we're twins, so he's not even that much older than me. It used to be worse though. Sometimes you have to push a little bit; make him realize you're not a child."

"I don't want to break any of his rules..."

"You don't have to. Just surprise him. Prove to him you're not a child and that you can make decisions for yourself. I had to prove that to Tavian." Tashin had to hide a smirk as the memory of Tavian's face as he woke to Tashin kissing him in bed surfaced.

"Oh?" Lyritta asked, getting to her knees and leaning forward, interested. "What did you do?"

Tashin opened his mouth and then blushed furiously. "I... er... I just... gave him something he really wanted, and... couldn't get by himself..." he mumbled and then looked down between his knees.

Lyritta cocked her head to the side, raising an eyebrow, not quite understanding. "Oh. Well... I suppose that would work." She was about to press for more details, but they were interrupted by Elias and Tavian reentering the cloiser.

Tashin looked up and felt himself flushing to see Elias and Tavian laghing with each other. The soft way that Elias' eyes fell on his twin made Tashin's skin heat up. And was it just him or was Tavian being coy in response, looking away and then back again through his lashes? He stood up abruptly, startling the others. "Can we go now?"

Tavian blinked at him, tucking a strand of hair that had pulled loose behind an ear. He gave Elias one last glance and then went to Tashin's side. "Of course. Are you really not feeling that well?"

"I just want to go home."

Elias and Lyritta walked them to the door, and then the two rogues were slowly winding their way throught he streets to wards Murder Row. "What's up, Tash? You seem... upset about something," Tavian asked worriedly.

"I just don't like going there. I hate being fussed over, and I don't like Elias."

Tavian made a quiet sound of exasperation. "What is there to not like about Elias? We've been through this before, and you never are able to come up with a real answer."

"I don't know!" Tashin snapped. "He just makes me feel... like a bad person. And I don't like the way he looks at you either."

"I don't care if Elias looks at me critically."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. He looks at you like... like he's undressing you with his eyes."

Tavian laughed out loud at this. "Elias?! Oh come on, Tash, Elias doesn't have a scandalous bone in his body. He's all forthwright and... holy... he's a man of the Light."

Tashin scoffed. "So, supposedly, is Kiril. And I think we both know that the Light is not the only thing that he has inside of him from time to time."

Tavian was actually speechless. "Kiril is also a good person, and he's been through a lot. You don't know what he experienced in Kalimdor."

Tashin, who actually knew exactly what he'd experienced in Kalimdor since he hadn't truly been asleep that night, held his tongue, and looked sheepishly to the side. "You're right that was unfair. I know Kiril is a good person." He gasped as his wrist was suddenly grabbed by Tavian and he was pulled into a side alley where Tavian pressed him against the wall with his body.

Their eyes locked and Tavian looked at him deeply. "What is wrong, Tash?" he asked plaintively. "What's gotten into you? You're so harsh these days." He trailed his fingertips down the side of Tashin's face. "Where is my sweet, beloved brother? You know you can talk to me about anything. I miss seeing you smile and laugh. I miss the softness your voice used to have."

Tashin looked back at Tavian, and as much as he wanted to resent him for saying such things, as much as he wanted to shout that there was no way to be his sweet, naieve self any longer because how could anyone maintain thier innocence doing and seeing the things that he had since he came with Tavian, he couldn't. He couldn't because he knew that it would hurt Tavian, and that he would blame himself for bringing these things on his twin, even though Tashin had been the one who wanted to go along, even though he had been the one that manipulated Tavian into doing as he asked. All he could do was look into Tavian's eyes and love him, ashamed of himself for causing him so much trouble and worry, and for being so horrible to him. Tavian who loved and trusted him completely...

He put his hands on Tavian's chest, touching him earnestly. "I'm just tired, and overwhelmed. The training has been hard, and... I know what a mess I've gotten myself into. And I know how much you worry about it, and how much you want to fix things. But you can't... no one can. I just love you so much, and I feel like I've done nothing but disappoint and burden you."

Tavian took Tashin's face in his hands. "No, no Tash. I'm so happy to have you with me. I want to look after you, and I could never be disappointed in you. You haven't done anything wrong. This is my fault for introducing you to-"

"Stop," Tashin said, looking into Tavian's eyes. "Just stop. Kiss me." He closed his eyes and pulled his twin closer by the front of his tunic, their lips coming together in a tender embrace that still sent shivers all through his body. Tavian's lips were always soft and warm and perfeclty fitted to his own. When their tongues touched he made a small sound of appreciation, loving the soft, slick, warm feeling and the taste of Tavian. They kissed for several long minutes, holding each other tightly in the alley until they were both flushed and panting.

They gazed at each other shyly, both surprised at times by the intensity of their connection. Tashin buried his face in the crook of Tavian's neck. Sometimes he wished so much that he could just let it all go and put everything on his twin. He wished he cold relinquish control. "Take me home?"

"It's not fair!" Lyritta's face was red and scrunched from the effort of trying not to cry. She was pacing in agitation to and fro across the tiny space between the bed and the curtain. Tashin watched her with sympathetic eyes from where he was sitting on the mattress, his back against the wall. Somehow over the course of the past couple months during his time seeing Elias he and Lyritta had struck up a friendship. They seemed to understand one another in ways that neither of their siblings did. Both knew what it was like to feel as if they were held captive by the overbearing good intentions of others, longing for some freedom to make their own choices even if they were the wrong ones. Lyritta admired Tashin for actually having gotten out of of the Stormcaller estate, and Tashin found Lyritta's goodness refreshing and bolstering to his own spirit. He felt like a better person just being around her, and although she shared her brother's uncanny ability to look through him and call him on his bluffs, he didn't mind so much, because rather than feeling judged he felt that she didn't mind what she saw.

"Lyr, calm down," Tashin said softly. "Take a deep breath."

"I can't! If I take a deep breath I'm going to scream! I can't believe he -said- those things to me!" she cried, waving her arms about.

Lyritta and Elias had been arguing more and more frequently. In fact almost every time that Tashin came to the estate they were either already arguing or arguing by the time he left. The only times they weren't arguing seemed to be when Lyritta was training with Tavian at her heels. "Alright, then at least lower your voice a bit, Lyr. Everyone in the dormitory can hear you."

She gave him a dark look and then huffed, sinking to her knees and throwing her arms out onto the mattress. She sniffled and Tashin scooted forward to pat her head. She looked up at him with red eyes that were just now finally releasing all the tears she'd been holding back. "I'm nothing but a burden to him..." she wailed pitifully. "He practically said he wanted to marry me off!"

Tashin patted her again. "I'm sure that's not what he meant."

"That's what he said! I told him that one day I'll be strong enough to wear plate mail and be -useful- to people and fight powerful evils, and he said... he said... 'I hope by that time you're -married- and that your HUSBAND can worry about you so that I don't have to!'" She was screaming again, and then collapsed into full-out sobbing, her face buried in the blankets over the mattress.

Tashin felt at a loss. He didn't really know how to comfort her. He understood her frustration and her anger, but he was not accustomed to having to comfort and coddle others. He was generally the one getting the comforting and coddling. He put a hand on her back and patted it gently. "How did this whole thing start?"

She sniffled loudly and raised her head enough so that she could talk. "We were talking about you and Tavian, and I said I didn't need Tavian following me around all the time. And he said that he has him do it because it keeps us both out of trouble. And then he said something about not trusting Zelanis with you two, so I said that I would come and check up on you here for him, and he got all angry saying I shouldn't come here and that it's dangerous and that I wasn't allowed to come see you or go anywhere near Zelanis' place. I just wanted to be helpful and help him make sure nothing bad was happening to you and Tave, because I like both of you and I care about you. And that's what stared it and before I knew it we were screaming at each other and... and he said -that- about marrying me off!" Her words were slurred and strung together, nearly unintelligible through her tears and heaving breaths.

Tashin furrowed his eyebrows together. Elias was worried about Zelanis? But weren't they friends? He wanted to ask Lyritta more about it, but it was fairly obvious it wouldn't do much good. Her face was buried back in the bedding.

"That's it!" she cried suddenly, pitching herself upright and giving Tashin a fierce, tear-stained glare. "It's the last straw! I'm not going to wait around here to be married off and cloistered up in some man's estate like a prize! He's going to be sorry that he would ever say such things to me. I'm going to show him. I'm going to -prove- to him that I can take care of myself!" She stood up abruptly, wiping the backs of her hands across her eyes.

Tashin got hastily to his feet. "Lyr, don't do anything stupid," he said, worriedly, reaching out to grab her wrist.

She jerked away with a scowl. "You think I'm just a stupid little girl, too, don't you?"

Tashin shook his head. "No! Lyr, of course not! I just don't want you to do anything rash!"

"Don't you ever want to get out of this city?!" she cried. "Don't you want to see the world?"

Tashin pursed his lips together and shrugged. "I don't know... I guess..." As far as Tashin was concerned the city -was- his freedom. Whatever lay beyond its walls was probably interesting and worth seeing at some point in his life, but as long as he was out of the Stormcaller estate his world was already infinitely larger than it had been for most of his life.

Her eyes grew wide and she suddenly clapped her hands together. "We could all go together, the three of us! You, me, and Tave!"

Tashin blinked at her. "Go where?"

"Anywhere! Lordaeron, or whatever they call it now, or... or Orgrimmar! We could go to Kalimdor! Or... anywhere!" she was growing increasingly excited and reached out to grab Tashin's arms.

Startled he pulled back slightly, though there was not far to go in the tiny room. "Lyritta... you know I can't," he said shaking his head.

She looked at him, her eyebrows drawing down in the first signs of deflating enthusiasm. "Well, I know I'm not as skilled as my brother, but... I'm still a paladin. I could be your physician... And Tavian would be there to help with your medication!"

Tashin looked down at this. "Lyr... it's not just that. The... bloodthistle doesn't grow anywhere but Quel'thalas." He gave her a sobering look and then pulled away to sit back down on the mattress, his knees drawn up to his chest.

She was silent for a long moment and then shuffled awkwardly. "But if you stopped taking it..."

He looked up at her sternly. "The withdrawal would probably kill me. My heart couldn't withstand the strain. Your brother likes to remind me of this fact often. Now that it's in me, not taking it is no longer an option."

"We could figure something out..." she started.

Tashin put his face into his knees. "I think you should go home, Lyritta."

Without another word to the young rogue the red-headed girl stepped quietly out of the room, and was on her way. Tashin sat for some time face buried in his knees just thinking. He'd never really thought about the fact that his addiction kept him tethered to this city, or at the very most to the lands of Quel'thalas. With a stash perhaps he could leave for a short time, a few weeks at most, but even then... the herb lost its potency after it dried. He had made himself as thoroughly a prisoner as he had been living under Zalmon, but now the warden of his prison was his own body, and there was no amount of manipulation or subtlety that could be employed to break free. Tavian could not help him escape this. And Tavian... he was as bound to this place as he was, because of the promise he had made never to leave Tashin. Not to mention is own addiction to his twin. He knew that Tavian wanted to explore the world, that he had always wanted to have great adventures and see things no one else had seen. Now it seemed that might be impossible, and Tashin could not help but feel as if he had robbed Tavian of this. The thought of being without Tavian and the thought of Tavian resenting him were equally horrible, and it was with these thoughts and feelings that Tashin slowly lay down and drifted into fitful sleep.

Late that night Tavian returned home from a contract. He slipped quietly in beside his sleeping twin and pulled him lovingly into his arms, kissing his face and murmuring to him until he woke and they made love. As he did so, elsewhere, a slight red-headed form quietly made its way through the Inner Sanctum of Sunfury Spire. With one look over a shoulder it paused, reached out to touch the orb, and was gone.

((Comment: WTF with all these random new characters? SRSLY. I must credit my friend, PantieChee from y!Gallery, with the creation of Lyritta Seregon and the development of her appearance and personality. She is actually a rather important character later on. Chee retains all parental rights over Lyritta. ))


	7. Ruins

Ruins

Ruins 

Elias's fingers moved over his neck slowly, pressing almost painfully into the hollow below his jaw, pausing there to test his pulse. Tashin sat straight, taking the now routine examination in stride. His emerald green eyes watched the paladin's face. Elias had not looked particularly well since Lyritta had left almost two weeks ago, leaving him only a note that promised she would make him proud and take care of herself. He still appeared tense and strained, paler than usual. Tashin knew what it was like to miss a sibling that was there one day and gone the next. He knew what it was like to wonder about them and hope and pray that they were safe and well all the while worrying that the worst had come to pass. But he also knew what it was like to feel stifled and coddled, and as much as he felt for Elias he understood why Lyritta had left.

Elias' hands moved down his neck and over his shoulders to his chest, one holding him still while the other pressed over his heart. "Does this hurt?" he asked absently.

"No."

Elias pressed a little harder. "This?"

"No."

"Good. You health seems to be in good order. You can go, but be careful of how much... just be careful," Elias said, turning away.

Tashin nodded and slid from the table, shrugging his leather vest back on over his linen shirt. He straightened one threadbare cuff, and looked at Elias' back for a moment. "She'll be fine. Plenty of others have struck out with less experience. Don't underestimate her. It's just making your miserable."

He saw the lines of Elias' back tighten and he stiffened. He paused for a moment in what he was doing the then went back to rearranging the tomes on his desk. "Thank you for your words, Tashin, but you'll have to forgive me if the opinion of one child about something he knows nothing regarding another child who also knows nothing is not particularly comforting."

Tashin furrowed his brows and pressed his lips together. "I am not a child," he hissed. "And neither is Lyr. Its because you treat her like one that she left. Can't you see that?! All she wants it your respect. Not to feel like some incapable burden!"

Now Elias did turn around, and his emerald eyes were burning, fixing on Tashin narrowly. "Don't presume to lecture me on how I treat my sister. I hardly think you are one to give lessons on how to properly treat their siblings. Or do you think it's alright to keep Tavian running around after you frantically trying to clean up the little messes you've selfishly caused yourself? I used to blame Tavian for bringing you into this life, he should have known better, but now that I know both of you I'm fairly certain it wasn't exactly his idea. He's still at fault for giving in, but I see how tightly you have him wrapped around your finger, Tashin. For whatever reason."

"I came here with Tavian because we didn't want to be apart any longer," Tashin bit out. "You're not a twin, you couldn't possibly understand how wrong it feels to be apart."

"Yes, well you have a wonderful excuse then to remain completely dependent on him for the rest of your life. But that's right, you're not a child," the older paladin sneered, his face twisting hatefully in a way that was very unlike him.

Tashin recoiled from him slightly. He had never seen Elias like this, and his frightened him a little. The usually kind and gentle paladin was never one for poisonous words even if Tashin did always feel unsettled beneath his appraising gaze. "I... I can take care of myself. I do take care of myself!"

Elias laughed, a hollow chuckle. "No, Tashin, -I- take care of you. Tavian takes care of you. Even Zelanis takes care of you. You are the last person that takes care of anything for yourself. Did it drive you crazy to know that, to feel it as you lay in bed at night? Knowing that even though you had escaped your family's estate you had just exchanged one big brother for another? Was getting yourself addicted to bloodthistle an act of independence, a rebellion? To show yourself that you could choose to do something no one else could have control over? Except now not even you have control over it, do you Tashin? It backfired a bit, didn't it? Now everyone else but you is taking care of this as well."

Tashin looked at Elias, horrified by the brutality of his words, horrified more that the truth of them lashed at his soul. He shook his head. "No! You and Tavian made that elixir. He gave it to me! I didn't know what would happen, I didn't -want- to become addicted."

Elias took a few steps towards the young rogue. "But you didn't exactly stop it either, did you?" He was close enough now to Tashin to touch him and did so, reaching out take his face in his hands, looking down into his eyes which were starting to fill with tears of rage and pain. He caressed his face, fingers trailing into his hair in a way that made Tashin want to jerk away, but he couldn't. His back was already almost to the wall. "Willfully self destructive behavior is a sign of a sick mind, a caged mind," he said softly. "Do you feel powerless, Tashin? Weak? What? Why would you do this to yourself?"

Now Tashin was crying and shaking. "Stop," he hissed. "Stop touching me..."

"Why?" Elias asked again, his voice becoming softer, gentler, regaining the properties of a healer.

Tashin grit his teeth. "I told you! It's the only thing that helps."

"Your heart, and what else?"

Tashin shook his head, trying to pull out of Elias' touch. _It's the only thing that helps me forget that I hate myself! Because I tricked him! He loves me and I tricked him... And I have done nothing but hurt him. Even this hurts him. Even this thing I have done to escape the pain it causes me to know how I have and how I -can- hurt him hurts him. Because it was supposed to be my secret... he wasn't supposed to know. But you... you... you -saw- me, and you ruined it! _He wanted to scream these things at Elias. He wanted to break down and just let all the poison flood out, but he couldn't. He couldn't give up what little control over himself that he had, not this paladin. And so all he could do was scream wordlessly in rage and push him back. "Get away from me!"

Elias, surprised by the ferocity of Tashin's outburst, stumbled back. He tried to grab Tashin again, realizing suddenly that being in such a high state of duress could send him into an attack, but the rogue lashed out, pushing his hands away. "Don't touch me!" he screamed. "You don't know anything about me, or Tavian. You call me a child? Well that makes him a child, too! Which makes your lust for him that much more perverse. Don't think I haven't seen the way you look at him, your beloved pupil. Don't think I don't know that the only reason you help me at all is because of -him-! But Tavian will never love you. I will never let him love you!"

Stunned Elias stared open mouthed at Tashin, eyes wide, skin paling. Bringing a hand to his mouth he shook his head. He'd never expected to have them thrown in his face, his feelings for Tavian. He thought he hid them well, even from himself. "You should go."

"Gladly." Tashin turned viciously to the door and wrenched it open. He paused for a moment when he heard Elias's voice.

"Selfish children. Our people have become nothing but selfish children."

Tashin looked back over his shoulder to see Elias' back as he slumped over his desk, supporting himself on his hands. Tashin's lip curled, though he felt a sharp pang in his chest. Why did he feel so confused and torn? He didn't care about Elias' opinion, he didn't care about his feelings. He had never done anything but make Tashin feel like he was unworthy. If he accused him of not being able to take care of his own problems, then he would show him... he would show him and Tavian. He would put a stop to this consequences be damned.

The walk back to the dormitories served only to infuriate Tashin more. Each step amping up his emotions as the words thrown back and forth between him and Elias played over and over again in his head. By the time he hit Murder Row he was running, not caring that he was gasping for air or that his chest hurt terribly. He pushed through the common room and into the tiny alcove he shared with Tavian. As usual his twin was not there. Seething he ripped into his pack, tossing everything within aside until he found what he was looking for. The wooden box he kept his stash of the herb in. Pulling th neat red-tinted leaves out he held them for a moment, staring at them with a mix or hatred and longing. Taking a deep breath he crushed them tightly in his hand and then got to his feet, marching back out into the common room. Several pairs of eyes watched him with mild curiosity, and few voices called out in disbelief when he dropped the leaves into the brazier burning in the middle of the room. For a few moments it gave off a acridly sweet smoke that made Tashin and those sitting near dizzy in a deliciously familiar was, but it soon dissipated and Tashin returned shakily to his bed where he lay down, clutching his chest and began to sob.

Shortly the curtain was pulled aside once more and Tashin looked up with red eyes and a tear-stained face that was also lined with some pain at his twin who was scowling down at him, though the scowl quickly faded into a frown of worry. "Tash! What is going on? I just came from Elias' to see if you were still there and he said he couldn't see you any more! He was adamant. What happened?!"

Tashin shook his head miserably and rolled back over to face the wall. "Nothing..."

Tavian got to his knees on the mattress beside his twin and pulled him back over by his shoulder. "Don't lie to me, especially when I can obviously tell you're lying." He touched Tashin's face tenderly, rubbing away a track of tears with his thumb. "Dear heart," he murmured, "tell me what's going on."

Tashin shook his head, his face twisting miserably. "We fought... I said something about Lyr and it just got out of control, the things we said."

Tavian sighed. "I'll talk to him..."

"No! I don't want to see him again. Ever! I'm perfectly happy to be barred from his home," Tashin spat.

Tavian looked at him blankly, and then sagged in defeat. "Ok. But you have to see someone..."

"It won't matter. It -doesn't- matter. I don't need to see anyone about this anymore."

"Tash, what are you talking about. You're are still unwell, and you are still dependant-"

"It doesn't matter!" he shouted.

Tavian rocked back on his heels and then all the way to his rear, slumping and hanging his head between his knees. He sighed and groaned, putting his hands to his face. "I'm so sorry, Tashin..."

"Shut up! This isn't your fault."

"All of this is my fault..."

"Stop it."

They were silent for some time, Tashin looking at his brother who continued to stare resolutely between his knees. "If I talk to Kiril will you let him see you? Whatever else Kiril might be, he is a priest."

Tashin sighed and then rolled over. "It doesn't matter, but if it will make you happy go ahead and talk to him."

Tavian took a deep, quavering breath and then laid himself out on the bed beside his twin, spooning against Tashin's back, wrapping his arms tightly around him. "I'm sorry you are upset. Are you feeling alright? You look a little... strained or pained maybe. You feel warm." He kissed the back of Tashin's neck and then the edge of his long, elegant ear. "I love you," he whispered against it.

Tashin made a soft, sad sound as he tipped his head back, turning it so that he could nuzzle a bit awkwardly against his twin's face. "And I love you," he whispered back. "Please don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I just got worked up. Hold me... I'll calm down now that you are here."

The twins lay fitted together, Tavian softly whispering soothing endearments into his twin's perfect ear. Tashin lay staring at the wall, his gaze distant and slightly empty.

"And that's everything that's happened," Tavian said with a sigh. He looked up from where he was sitting in a sunspot on the floor of the Lightweaver family estate's library. Kiril was leaning, arms crossed, against the sill of one of the large bay windows. He was chewing his bottom lip, looking intently out the window. He seemed to be processing everything that Tavian had told him. There was a pregnant silence and then the young priest took a deep breath and turned slightly to look back at Tavian.

"Tashin really came to you and –gave- himself to you?" he asked at last.

Tavian furrowed his eyebrows and sighed in exasperation. Of all of the things he had told Kiril about, trust his cousin to be most interested in this one. "For the love of the Light, Kiril, that's the one thing you really are concerned with."

Kiril shrugged, brushing a long strand of his orange-red hair over his shoulder in a fluid motion as he did so. "I just never would have given him that much credit. It just makes me wonder which part of his character I've misjudged all these years."

"Maybe it's the same part that got addicted to bloodthistle," Tavian said sarcastically.

Kiril shrugged again. "Maybe. Probably. So I suppose that's the real issue, isn't it? Tashin's health."

"Do you think you can help him? Just looking after him, checking on his health the way Elias was?" There was a small note of pleading desperation in Tavian's voice.

Kiril gave him a sympathetic look and went back to biting his lip. He crossed the room and sat down in the sunspot with Tavian. "I suppose I could, though to be honest I don't know how much help it will be. I'm no paladin, I don't know that my abilities will have the same effects. And not only that but I don't really intend to be in the city much longer."

Tavian was surprised by this. He'd thought that since Kiril had returned from his adventuring he would be in the city for good again. He blinked at his cousin. "Where are you going?"

Kiril grinned in spite of himself. "South I think. By way of Kalimdor. There's always interesting things going on in the goblin towns, not to mention a more interesting collection of people to meet."

Tavian looked at him askance, half disapproving, half jealous. "You hoping to find your druid?"

Kiril blanched slightly at the question, obviously not expecting it. He looked up at Tavian and then away again, dropping his eyes. A piece of his red hair fell forward, making it hard for the rogue to see his cousin's face. "I don't know. I don't even know what would come of such a reunion. It's been six years. I'm hardly the person I was then it seems. I don't know if I hate him or love him anymore. Besides, I thought I told you I don't talk about that."

Tavian gave Kiril a long look. "You can't stop loving someone just because it's not easy. Aren't you the one that said love without conviction becomes regret?"

"Are you going to tell me that in the midst of all of this mess you never regret loving Tashin?" Kiril countered a little bit icily.

Tavian pursed his lips together and looked down into his lap. "No. I don't regret loving him. I regret the way it has unfolded, but could never regret loving him. Besides I am sure that if one of us ever ends up hating the other it will be Tashin that hates me for bringing all of this on him."

Kiril snorted. "That's the stupidest thing I've heard. From what you've told me I think Tashin brought a good deal of this on himself." Tavian just mutely shook his head. Kiril regarded him for a moment and then put one of his long-fingered hands on Tavian's knee. "Maybe you should come with me."

When Tavian looked up he could see a wicked glint in Kiril's eye. "Where? To the goblin towns?"

"Out of this Light-forsaken city!" Kiril exclaimed.

Tavian shook his head. "I can't. Kiril, you know that I can't leave Tashin. Even if I wanted to – which I don't – I made a promise never to leave him behind again."

Kiril rolled his eyes and reclined back on his hands, tipping his head back into the sunlight, making a gracefully arched show of his neck. "So you're just going to stay trapped in this city forever?"

"Until Tashin can travel with me… yes. I love him, I can't leave him! Loving him is enough," Tavian said defensively.

Kiril snorted. "'Loving him is enough.' A quaint, charming, and naïve sentiment. If you want to hear the truth, Tavian, the truth is that living for love is very rarely enough. And before you can even begin to do so, you have to be right with yourself. 'My druid' taught me that, and I hate him for it, but he was right. You'll never be happy in this depressing city doing Zelanis' dirty work, no matter how much you love Tashin. And I can almost guarantee that he will never be happy, because he knows this. Eventually you really will both end up hating each other."

Tavian curled in on himself a little bit, hunching his shoulders forward. "I promised, Kiril." He looked up then, his eyes intense, his mouth set in a firm line. "So will you help me look after him at least as long as you can?"

Kiril sighed and nodded. "Of course. You're my cousins, I love you both. Perhaps I can talk to Aeltha about doing the same if I leave again-"

"I don't think that's a good idea," Tavian cut in.

Kiril blinked. "Why?"

"Because your sister gives me the heebie jeebies," Tavian said, making a face.

Kiril laughed, putting a hand on his stomach. "Aeltha? I don't know anyone more forthright and judicious than my big sister."

"I know. That's what gives me the heebie jeebies. She'd kick my ass and do it out of love, and –that's- scary."

Kiril continued to chuckle. "You know not every older sibling has to be like Zalmon."

Tavian grinned a little. "Yeah, but I guess that's just what I'm used to."

"Fair enough," the young priest said, getting to his feet, pulling his long red hair back over his shoulder as he did so. "You should probably get going before mother and father realize you're still here and start making snobbish, awkward attempts to entertain you."

Tavian gave a breathy little laugh, getting to his feet as well. "I don't know why they would bother. The whole House knows I'm out of favor. I was surprised they even let me in the estate."

Kiril gave Tavian a long look. "They talked about adopting you, you now. After Andorian disowned you I think they thought it would be great fun to rub it in his face and take you under the Lightweaver wing. Tavian Lightweaver, has a nice ring to it, but of course in the end I think they decided having one black sheep in the family was quite enough."

Tavian couldn't help but smirk a little bit. The thought of being "adopted" by Kiril's branch of the House was truly amusing. Oh the nails his father would have spit. Not that he would have been able to do anything about it. Losing the entire Lightweaver family would have devastated House Dorthonion politically, financially, and in terms of prestige. "It might have been interesting, but I think Tavian Stormcaller sounds a little more appropriate. Seems I brew up storms wherever I go. And the only light I'll ever weave is on the wick side of candlestick."

Kiril reached out to shake his cousin's hand. "True enough. Though I can't say I would have minded having you around to play with more often." He gave the hand a warm squeeze.

Tavian blushed in spite of himself, and grumbled, "You're never going to stop bringing up that one time, are you?"

"Not as long as it makes you blush like that I'm not."

Several weeks passed. Tavian spent as much time as he could with Tashin, who seemed to be growing more and more lethargic by the day, but was often forced away from him with contracts given to him by Zelanis. When he talked to Kiril about his visits with Tashin the priest was generally pretty close-mouthed, saying only that he was doing what he could and that more than anything Tashin seemed depressed. Though at one point he confided that he wasn't sure Tashin had actually been taking raw bloodthistle for some time, though he always ensured that he took the elixir, which seemed to perk him up a bit. Tavian also noticed that Tashin seemed to be disoriented often when he returned to him. Several times he had woken his twin from sleep, wiping away a pinkish foam from the corners of his mouth. More than once his tongue had been bleeding, though the younger twin generally refused to allow Tavian to examine him in any detail. What scared Tavian the most was when Tashin would suddenly gasp for breath and clutch at his chest, though during such times his twin would not let him do much other than hold him until the episode passed. They talked less and less, and Tavian began to despair of what to do. He thought several times of going to see Elias, but something about the look on his face the day he had last talked to him always kept him from doing so.

It was evening. The streets were quiet save for a few passersby who went about their own business. Murder Row was even quieter than the rest of the city. The twilight enveloped Tavian as he moved quickly down the street, knowing that despite his haste he was all but invisible. Twlight was his favorite time of the day. It took so little effort to simply slip out of sight into the shadows. It made him feel safe… anonymous.

As he turned towards the entrance to the rogue trainers and to the stairs that led down into the dormitories, he could not help but notice the two hawkstriders that were tethered outside the building. Even in the gloomy dimness of twilight he recognized them and the emblazoned crests on their saddles. These 'striders belonged to House Dorthonion, more specifically they belonged to Zalmon.

Now with renewed speed and a sinking feeling in his heart Tavian all but ran into the common room below, coming up short as he heard the sound of shouting. The other occupants of the dormitories were staring at the tall, handsome, severe looking man and the elegant woman at his side who were standing before the drawn wide curtain of the alcove Tavian shared with Tashin.

"Leave us alone!" Tashin was screaming, the dangerous note of hysteria in his voice, speeding Tavian across the room.

"You will return to the estate," Zalmon's familiar, snarl ground out. "I don't care if that means I have to drag your mutt of a twin along with you, but this is completely unacceptable."

"Tash, think of your health. This place is doing nothing for you," Sorawen chimed in, her smooth voice pleading.

Tashin looked from Zalmon to Sorawen, desperation in his eyes. "Sora… you can't be on his side. I can't go back there…"

She was about to reply, but Tavian had reached them and was not pushing past Zalmon to get to Tashin's side. Light, but he looked ghastly. His skin was pale and had an almost waxen look about it. His eyes were hollow, and he seemed to be shaking. Tavian drew him into his arm where he slumped against his side. "What are you two doing here?" Tavian demanded.

Zalmon's lip curled and Sorawen fixed him with an icy stare. "Our cousin, the priest, was good enough to inform us of Tashin's state. Something he did apparently out of concern for him, something you seem to be lacking."

"Don't you dare lecture me on how I care for my twin," Tavian snarled.

"How could not tell us?" Sorawen broke in. Her face was livid. The look made Tavian begin to doubt himself, and he pulled Tashin closer.

"I didn't tell you, because he didn't want me to. And because I knew you would try to make him return to the estate, which is the one thing he fears more than anything: to become a prisoner to his room once more."

"Don't be a fool," Zalmon dripped. "You are killing him, or he is killing himself."

"That's his choice!" Tavian cried, not even heeding his own words. His head whipped sharply to the side, pain blooming in his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sorawen, her hand upraised, and realized that she has struck him.

"You arrogant child," she seethed. "Didn't I tell you that I would make you sorry if you made him worse?"

Tavian blinked, hardly able to believe what had just happened. While he was stunned Zalmon took advantage of the moment and reached out to seize Tashin's arm.

"Come, Tashin, we are leaving this place. Whether your brother chooses to join you is up to him," the eldest Stormcaller brother said, trying to pull Tashin away from Tavian.

"No!" Tashin cried, with more force than any of them expected. He wrenched his arm in Zalmon's grasp, trying to pull away from him. But the warlock's grip was like iron. "I'm not going back there! I'm not! I can't! Why won't you just leave me alone?! I stopped… I stopped taking it, I swear!" His pleading and struggling was so laced with hysteria that Zalmon drew back, almost releasing him. Tashin lashed out with his free hand, trying to claw at his eldest brother. Even Tavian was shocked, able to do little but stare at his twin, the horror of how bad things had become slowly washing over him.

And then suddenly Tashin was screaming. His hand clawing at his chest he sagged, falling to his knees, held up only by Zalmon's fierce grip. A moment later his voice was cut off as he gagged and started gulping for air. Tavian was at his side in an instant, trying to pull him into his arms. "Let go of him!" he cried, and Zalmon obliged, releasing Tashin's arm like it was something hot.

As he slumped back into Tavian's arms Tashin's entire body began to shake, and Tavian watched in horror as the glowing green light of his eyes went out as they rolled back into his head. "Tashin? Tashin!" he cried as his twin's body began to jerk perversely, and he made horrid gagging sounds.

"Light," Sorawen breathed, "he's having a seizure…"

"Zalmon, help me!" Tavian pleaded, looking up at his elder brother. "Hold him down."

With a tsking sound of disgust the warlock got to his knees and none too gently pinned Tashin down by the shoulders. His arms and legs continued to twitch. Tavian moved as it in a dream, remembering out of nowhere what the physicians had taught them to do when this happened, although the last time he could remember it happening had been years and years ago now. He forced two of his fingers past his twin's lips, shoving them into his mouth so that he could press his tongue down and ensure that he did not bite through it and bleed to death. Of course this meant that Tashin was now biting down on his fingers with what felt like enough force to break them. Gritting his teeth Tavian bore the pain, feeling that this at the very least was his due.

The episode didn't last nearly as long as it felt like it did. And when it was over both Tavian and Zalmon continued to hold their breaths for a few long moments before looking up at each other. That pinkish foam was on Tashin's lips again now stained not with blood from his tongue, bur from Tavian's fingers. Tavian realized with a little ripple of horror that this meant Tashin had been having seizures for some time.

"Will you listen to reason now?" Zalmon snarled.

Tavian looked back down at Tashin's face and slowly pulled his fingers out of his mouth, unable to tear his eyes away from the deep, bloody tooth marks. When his eyes went back to Tashin he felt the desperate desire to scream, but kept himself from doing so, knowing it was not going to do any of them any good for him to fall apart at the moment. Especially not when he noticed that Tashin's chest was barely rising and falling. "We have to get him to a healer," he breathed, and then suddenly he was in motion, pushing Zalmon aside and gathering Tashin into his arms.

"We can take him to the Lightweaver estate," Zalmon said getting to his feet.

Tavian shook his head, already beginning to shove through the small crowd that had gathered around them. Tashin was scarily light in his arms. "It's too far. The Seregon estate is closer. Elias knows Tashin's state well." _I just hope he's willing to help. I'll beg if I have to, I don't care… _

Zalmon made a discontented grunting sound, but followed behind, tugging a stunned Sorawen along after them. "Put him on one of the 'striders," Zalmon said, gesturing to one of the tethered birds. "We'll follow on the other."

Tavian, for once, did as his elder brother told him and slung his unconscious twin over the back of the black 'strider, an ornery thing named Jabbi. He swung himself up into the saddle behind him, pulling Tashin partway into his lap and holding him steady as he urged the dumb bird down the street which was now almost completely dark.

He didn't even bother to tether the hawkstrider when he reached the steps of the Seregon estate. Within a few moments he was pounding at the door with his fist, Tashin slung over one of his shoulders as Zalmon and Sorawen began to mount the steps behind him.

"Elias!" he shouted, still banging. "Elias, please I need you!"

There was flicker of light from within the estate which Tavian could see moving through the windows. He banged more persistently until finally the door swung open and a dazed, mussed Elias peered at him wonderingly from the other side of the doorway.

"Tavian what on Azeroth are you doing here?" he asked, but then his eyes fell on the form draped over his shoulder and on the forms behind him, and some kind of understanding began to dawn in his eyes. He reached out automatically, taking Tashin into his own arms as Tavian mutely handed him over. "What happened?"

"Does it matter?" Zalmon growled, pushing past Tavian and into the estate. "Just attend to the boy."

Elias' eyes flick to Zalmon and back to Tavian. "Who is this?"

"My brother, Zalmon Stormcaller," Tavian said sheepishly, though he wasn't sure why. "And… his wife, Sorawen."

"So nice to be invaded by the Stormcaller family," he murmured. Elias looked around from Tavian to Zalmon to Sorawen and the down at Tashin's limp form in his arms. Then he looked closer. "Light, is he breathing?!"

"What?!" Tavian exclaimed, stepping closer. "I don't know… he was when we left."

Elias made a tsking growl sound and turned away quickly, carrying Tashin to the closest room, the kitchen where he laid him down hastily on a counter, pushing cooking implements away with his forearm. "What happened?" he asked again.

Tavian shook his head, hovering over Tashin like a worried hen. "Zalmon came to try to take him home, and he got upset. Next thing we knew he was having an attack and then he was seizing."

Pushing his ear to Tashin's chest Elias swore under his breath. "He's not breathing. His heart has stopped. How long did the seizure last?" Elias asked hurriedly

"I don't know-"

"At least two minutes," Zalmon cut in.

Elias looked up at him over Tashin's body. "That's not good."

"Even I figured that much out," Zalmon drawled.

Tavian tried to press closer to his brother, trying to reach out to touch him. "Is he going to be ok?"

Elias reached out and shoved him back. "I don't know! But you have to stand back, you're in my way, Tavian!" he snapped. Tavian stumbled back, wrapping his arms around himself. Zalmon and Sorawen were both glaring at him over the counter and Tashin's body. He had to look away. Elias put his hands on Tashin's chest and closed his eyes. Small tendrils of light seeped from his fingers and into Tashin's body, but the younger twin's flesh did not glow in response at it usually would to the touch of the Light. Elias licked his lips and then looked up, squarely meeting Zalmon's gaze. "He's dead."

"What?!" Tavian screamed, almost leaping forward, but Elias' hand kept him at bay.

"Resurrect him," Zalmon said, his tone flat.

Elias looked at the eldest Stormcaller brother, his mouth falling open. "I don't know if that's-"

"You're a paladin, aren't you? That's what you do, isn't it?" he growled, his voice dripping. "You will be compensated for your trouble. Resurrect him."

Elias nodded hesitantly. "True his spirit probably hasn't gone too far, but it can be traumatizing mentally and physically…"

"Do it!" Tavian screamed, and then overcome with emotion and horror covered his mouth turned from the scene and stumbled blindly out into the hallway and into the inner courtyard where he slumped against a pillar, tears pouting down his face. Tashin had… died? Even if Elias could bring him back to life it would never erase the fact that Tavian had let his beloved twin die. He had died in his arms and he hadn't even realized it.

There was bright while flash of light from inside the estate and then a piercing cry that was somewhere between agony, longing, and despair. The sound almost made Tavian physically ill, because he knew it was coming from Tashin. After a moment it faded away as did the sharp white light. Tavian covered his face with his hands.

"Are you happy now?" the cold voice broke through his thoughts. Tavian looked up to see Zalmon sneering at him. "Are you still glad that you took him away from the place he could have been protected and cared for. I was even willing to let you stay to make him happy."

"I didn't know any of this would happen. You think I wanted it to?! I wish it hadn't!" Tavian cried. "I wish I had never agreed to what he asked…"

"You have been nothing but a poisonous influence in his life," Zalmon went on, stepping closer to his younger brother. "I think we both know what would be best for Tashin."

Tavian looked at him, eyes wide, slowly shaking his head silently.

"I will take Tashin home. I will ensure his safety and his wellbeing. I will care for him. I will see that he gets better and lives a fruitful life, and that this taint you have allowed to infect him is erased forever," Zalmone drawled, stepping closer and closer to Tavian until his lips were just at the shell of his long, elegant ear. Tavian nodded, tears still streaming from his eyes. "And in return for this, for saving your beloved's life, you will do what is best for him and the family. You will leave, because you are unworthy of his love and unworthy of our family name, and deep down inside you know this. You have always known this."

"No, Zalmon-" Tavian pleaded, but was cut short.

"If you do not accept this fact and do what is best for him, I see no reason why I should have to sacrifice to do what is best for him, and I will leave the both of you on these streets again. Only this time I will truly disown the both of you."

Tavian's heart quailed and he sobbed. To refuse Zalmon would mean he could stay with Tashin, keep his promise to him, but he had already proven that he could not protect his beloved twin. He had failed him once, he had let him die, and he could not risk that he would do so again. Zalmon could protect him…

Slowly, choking back a sob, Tavian nodded. "I will do as you say. Just please, please never let anything happen to him again."

Zalmon kissed Tavian's cheek. "You have my word. I will even let you take Jabbi. My gift to you." With that the warlock pulled away, and Tavian could have sworn that it was with a small snicker of satisfaction. He could not even watch the warlock's back and he moved away, his eyes were simply fixed in space in empty despair.

"Tavian?" once again the sound of another's voice broke into his reverie.

He took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes before straightening and looked over at Elias who looked drained. "Thank you so much," he whispered. "I can never repay you. I know you said you would never see Tashin again-"

"Shh," Elias put a finger to Tavian's lips and shook his head. "That doesn't matter now. Your brother lives. I don't need to be repaid. You have to know that I would do anything for you."

Tavian blinked, not expecting the tone in Elias' voice of the look in his emerald eyes. He backed a bit into the pillar at his back as the tall, red-headed elf came closer. "Elias… what-?" He looked up into those eyes and gasped softly when he felt Elias' hand on his cheek. He suddenly felt trapped.

"This has made me realize just how much I would do for you. That you have to know… that I need you to know how I feel," he murmured.

"No, Elias, wait," Tavian breathed, his eyes going wide. Had Tashin been right? Could he have really been that blind? He tried to get away, pulling out of Elias' touch, but was caught up once again by the paladin and found their lips pressed together. He shivered and feeling suddenly completely powerless sagged into the other man's embrace. The taste of his lips was surprisingly sweet and almost blissfully soft and inviting. Tavian made a small sound against them, and Elias took this as encouragement intensifying and deepening the kiss. Tavian could not keep his body from responding, his mouth opening invitingly to share in the kiss. His hands clutched desperately at the front of Elias' tunic, wanting to hold onto anything at the moment. His mind was filled with a confusing cacophony of thoughts and emotions, but he found that concentrating on the feel of Elias' body drowned them out.

The kiss broke and Elias whispered against his lips, "Tavian…"

The sound of his own name broke the spell and Tavian's eyes flew open. He choked and began to push against Elias' chest. "No," he whispered. "No, no I can't. I have to go. I have to leave."

Elias stepped back, but kept his hands on Tavian's arms. "What are you talking about? You don't have to go anywhere."

Tavian shook his head. "I promised. Zalmon made me promise," he gasped, trying to catch his breath around the building sobs in his chest. "I have to go. He'll take care of Tashin, but not if I stay. He'll disown him. I have to go." He repeated this, still pushing against Elias.

Elias shook him a tiny bit. "You don't have to go anywhere," he hissed. "I will take care of both of you."

For a moment Tavian was tempted, torn between staying and going. But he knew that staying meant that he accepted Elias' feelings, and he couldn't do that. And he knew in his heart that he didn't deserve them. He didn't deserve Tashin's love and he certainly didn't deserve Elias'. Not only that but Zalmon was right… leaving was the best thing for Tashin. Getting out of his life was the best thing he could do for his twin.

Tavian shook his head, looking down, feeling more tears come to his eyes. "No, I can't, because I love him."

Elias furrowed his brows, trying to pull Tavian closer as he resisted. "Of course you do. He's your twin."

"No," Tavian repeated. "You don't understand."

"Tavian it's alright. I know you want what is best for Tashin, but this isn't your fault. You don't have to leave," Elias said, soothingly.

Tavian looked up now, his face twisted in pain as he continued to cry. "You don't understand!" he shouted, shoving the paladin back forcefully. "I –love- him. I am in love with him, and I cannot love you and I cannot stay!"

Elias stepped back, looking as if he'd been struck. "What?" he whispered at last. "Tavian what are you talking about?"

The young rogue stepped forward. "I am in love with my twin," he said, his voice hoarse. "I always have been. I would do –anything- for him, and I am sorry you are caught in the middle. And I am sorry that I have to ask you to take care of him, but if you truly care for me, Elias, then the only thing you can do for me is to care for him." The paladin looked too stunned to say much of anything. His heart pounding madly Tavian stepped to him and kissed him hard on the lips again. "Please," he murmured. "Do this for me."

He felt Elias' hand reach out to close about his waist, but Tavian pulled away too quickly, fleeing from the courtyard and out into the darkening night.


	8. Resistance

((Comment: If you've gotten this far, bravo! Hope you are enjoying the ride as it unfurls full of angst and dramaz XD. Before reading this chapter, however I would recommend reading the three-part story I have posted called "Light and Balance." It gives all the backstory on Kiril's relationship with the druid he met in Kalimdor. It might be good stuff to know nudge nudge, wink wink ))

Resistance 

It was that eerie hour before dawn, when the complete darkness of night began to give away to the grayness of coming light. It was the time of day when Elias began to think about Tavian, turning the events of the last time he had seen him over and over in his mind. How could he have been so foolish? Why had he chosen that moment to become bold when he knew that Tavian could be in no state to accept his affection? And more... how had he been so blind as to not see what was now so obvious in hindsight: the depth of the twins' relationship, the depth of its illness. He cursed himself quietly so as not to wake his patient, though he knew that Tashin would stir soon in any case. He always did this time of the morning, usually delirious and confused, asking the same questions.

Elias crossed the room in which he had installed Tashin. He had agreed to keep the boy at his estate not because Zalmon had ordered him to, promising adequate compensation, but because he could not get Tavian's last words to him out of his mind. _If you truly care for me, Elias, then the only thing you can do for me is to care for him. Please. Do this for me. _When he played the words over in his head the holy paladin could still feel the hard press of Tavian's lips against his. Pulling the curtain partway back he sighed and pressed his forehead to the cold glass pane of the window. It had been two weeks since Tashin's resurrection. The younger twin was slowly recovering, though he still often seemed disoriented and had not left his room. In fact he hardly even got out of the bed.

He heard Tashin stir in the bed, and turned around slowly, the dim light from the open curtain falling across his form.

"W-where..." Tashin murmured.

Elias crossed to him, sitting at the edge of the bed. He regarded Tashin's face, the tangle of his black hair, the way his slightly parted lips worked around a fluttery breath and for moment... for a moment he was seeing Tavian. Closing his eyes he looked away again, touching his temples. He heard the young rogue come awake with a start and a sharp gasp, pushing himself partway up. Elias looked over his shoulder to see Tashin blinking at him, startled, his nightshirt in disarray, panting slightly before the young Sindorei collapsed back onto the bed. "Where's Tavian?" he gasped. "Where am I?"

Elias took a deep breath. How many times were they going to do this? "You are in my home, Tashin. You have been for two weeks. Tavian is gone. He left the city with your cousin the night you got here."

Tashin breathed deeply for a few moments and then made a soft, miserable sound as he remembered everything. He turned onto his side and curled in on himself. Elias reached back, hesitating for a moment before brushing Tashin's long hair out of his eyes. The young man lying in his guest bed who was once again his patient filled him with conflicting feelings. There was a certain amount of disdain that he felt for Tashin. For how weak he was, how cowardly, how selfish... Knowing now what he did about his relationship with Tavian made it worse. Not only because they were brothers, but because Tashin had been able to put Tavian through what he had and still claim to love him with the depth of a lover. But there was also a very strong affection, a desire to protect and comfort the young man that could not help but remind Elias of Tavian. He was the only piece of Tavian Elias had at the moment, and that made him precious.

Elias continued to push Tashin's hair back over his shoulder and then gently rubbed his upper back. Tashin didn't move either to come closer or to pull away. "He can't be gone..." he whispered, "not again. He promised..."

Elias placed his hand on Tashin's forehead to feel for fever, which he had been exhibiting from time to time. His forehead was cool and Elias was relieved. If there was anything good to be taken away from this it was that the withdrawal he'd suffered and his subsequent death and resurrection had put an end to Tashin's addiction to bloodthistle. His current state was due solely to his heart condition and the stress put on his body and soul by being brought back from death. And, of course, his broken heart, Elias thought a little bitterly. But then he had enough of his own bitter disappointment to nurse over this whole mess. He looked hard at Tashin and sighed. But misery also loved company.

"He did what he thought was best for you right now. You were poisoning each other. You need to rest and recover and return to your eldest brother. I promised Tavian I would help you do so," Elias said.

Tashin half-turned onto his back and looked up at Elias with glowing green eyes. "Did you make him leave? Did you chase him away from me?" he asked, his lip curling slightly.

Elias looked back at the young rogue his expression stony. He knew that Tashin's hostility was just a defense he put up. He'd come to realize that everything about Tashin was a defense he put up. It was all just an attempt to keep others from being able to control him, to imprison him, to turn him into some frail child to be coddled. It must have been hard, Elias thought, to grow up limited and imprisoned by your own body, both a blessing and a curse to have a twin who was not thusly effected, a mirror through which to live vicariously and both experience all that you could not do and be painfully aware of all that you were not. Tashin had had a lot of time alone with his thoughts, a lot of time to let these things fester and rot without even realizing it. He had no doubt that at one time Tashin had truly been the sweet, loving young man that Tavian once described to him. But somewhere along the way he had been covered over by the hard facade of self preservation Tashin now showed to the world.

Elias' expression softened and he touched that snarling face, seeing it waver uncertainly, green eyes widening slightly. "You know that I didn't. I wouldn't do that. I wanted to take care of both of you, but he did as your eldest brother told him and left the city. We've been over this."

Tashin looked away and closed his eyes. "I keep forgetting."

"It will get better. It would help if you got out of bed."

"I can't face the world without him again."

"I think you probably can," Elias said softly, though his voice had a hard edge. It never did much good to mollycoddle the sick. "You have your own strength. You don't need him."

"I don't want to be without him. I love him," Tashin hissed.

"And he loves you," Elias said, getting to his feet. "Be content in that knowledge. At least you have that much." Tashin looked up at him, his face twisting as he struggled to hold back tears. "You can trust me," Elias said. "You will get better."

"I can't trust anyone. Not even Tavian. He broke his promise." Now Tashin was crying, covering his face with his hands.

"Can you blame him? Look what staying with you brought down on both your heads. He did what was best for both of you."

Tashin sobbed. His heart twisted painfully at the truth of Elias' words and he wanted to be physically sick, but he had not eaten enough. Every time he fell asleep again he convinced himself it was all a bad dream and that he would wake up in Tavian's arms in their little hole in the wall. But for two weeks he had just woken up in Elias' guest bed alone or with no one but Elias at his side. He was running out of tricks to play on himself, and the truth of a life however short or long it may be without Tavian near him was almost too terrible to contemplate.

"You will see him again," Elias said as he moved towards the door, exhausted just from being around Tashin. "He asked me to take care of you, Tashin, and I will. Live to see him. Become strong enough to look him in the eyes again one day."

Tashin lay crying for some time after Elias left. Slowly the sun was coming up through the window and the room grew brighter and brighter. Eventually his tears were dried up and a quiet settled over the room. He stared up at the ceiling feeling utterly alone, playing Elias' words over in his head. Perhaps he was right. For two weeks he had done nothing but lie in bed and fool himself, and fluctuate between becoming sicker and becoming better. He was angry. Angry with Zalmon, angry with Elias, and angry with Tavian. But he also knew that no matter where Tavian was he was probably suffering just as much if not more. He would hate himself for breaking his promise, but was willing to sacrifice that for him if it meant that Tashin might truly get better. Maybe they were nothing but poison for each other, but if that was the case it was a poison that Tashin himself had created and spread. From the first moment he touched Tavian with ulterior motives, drew him into his arms and into his body with the intent to get from him what he wanted not simply to be with him the poison had begun to spread. Maybe he deserved to be left alone. Maybe he did have to become worthy of seeing Tavian again, to become strong enough to look him in the eyes. Tashin fielded these thoughts with more calmness and resolve than he would have expected from himself. Slowly he sat up, blinking into the light of the rising sun and placed his bare feet on the cold stone floor.

For two weeks Tavian had followed Kiril like an obedient dog, trotting at his heels, nodding mutely at each direction given, staring blankly forward. As long as he could hold onto Jabbi's reins and follow that patch of bright orange-red hair in front of him Tavian was doing alright. He had hardly seen or noticed any of the lands they had passed through. The grotesque obscenities of the Undercity had met vague indifference. The Zepplin ride to Orgrimmar had passed away with Tavian clinging white knuckled to the railing, shaking violently as Kiril stood at the prow of the flying ship grinning into the wind, his long hair whipping out behind him like a kite tail of fire, but even then his mind had been elsewhere. Even the tour through the almost hive-like Orcish capitol had failed to phase Tavian overly much. He has been unable to keep from staring at the first few members of the other Horde races he saw, finding it aggravating how Trolls did not seem to have any regard for personal space in crowded areas, how Orcs had no qualms about shoving one another and everyone else out of their way, and how the Tauren seemed to plod about everything they did. Beyond these nuisances Tavian's mind was resolutely elsewhere, constantly fixated on Tashin and Elias, wondering how they were doing, agonizing over whether or not he had done the right thing, and generally finding all else just not that important.

Parked at an inn in the dusty, hot, crowded city, sharing a hammock with his cousin Kiril finally reached the end of his patience with the melancholy rogue.

"Do you want me to take you home right now?!" he yelled as Tavian failed to express any interest in doing anything but lying in the swinging rope bed. "You came to me and -begged- me to leave the city with you right that very instant. Which I was happy to do, but Tavian this is ridiculous. You can't just wallow. You can wallow in Silvermoon."

Tavian glared at his distant cousin and rolled onto his back to look up at him. "I can't be in Silvermoon. I've been disowned, Kiril! I didn't -want- to leave Tashin. This is killing me! Can't you understand that?!"

Kiril pursed his lips together and looked away. "Of course I can," he said softly. "I've been where you are."

"Then why are you giving me a hard time?" Tavian hissed.

Kiril looked back at his cousin sympathetically. "Because it was only after I ceased to dwell on his face that it was bearable. I had the desolation of our people to distract me, to give me purpose, and channel my emotions into. You have a whole wide world to the same with. Try not to think about him. Stop poking at the wounds; they'll just get infected. I know it hurts, and that's ok, but you have to try, Tavian. It doesn't just go away on its own. It never really goes away, but the world is full of distractions." He grinned down at the rogue and leaned over him slightly. "You were a very good distraction for me once. I would have no qualms about returning the favor."

Tavian blinked and then closed his eyes, making a groaning sound. "I know you mean well, Kiril, but the thought makes me sick at the moment."

Kiril made a pouty face and then turned away with a disgruntled sigh, propping his chin in his hand. "That's the first time I've gotten that."

Tavian couldn't help but chuckle hollowly. "Nothing personal, it's not you."

Kiril looked back over his shoulder and smiled. "I know. I'm far too desirable to be offended." He looked a bit more seriously at his cousin. "But honestly. If you need me for anything, I'm here for you. But please, please stop this..." he waved his hand in Tavian's direction, "whatever this is. Or else I will hit you on the head with my staff."

Tavian sighed. "I'll try."

Kiril stood up suddenly then, making the hammock rock. "That's it. I know what you need."

Tavian furrowed his eyebrows. "What?"

"You need some tropical sunshine and some potential for scandalousness."

"No. I don't think that's what I need at all," Tavian said skeptically.

"No arguments. We're going to Booty Bay. Not only is the air not full of dust and the smell of orcs, but there is sunshine, water, palm trees, and private rooms at the inn. And lots of alcohol."

Tavian blinked and sighed. "Ok... maybe I could use some of that."

Kiril grinned, brushing his long hair over one shoulder. "Then let's grab our stuff and get out of this place. We'll have to make it to Ratchet first. Only one boat directly to Booty Bay, and I'm not walking through the jungle."

Tavian sat up partway. "You want to go now?"

Kiril gave Tavian a look. "What else are we doing with our time? Did you want to hang around in this pathetic excuse for an inn with all the grunting, snorting inhabitants of Orgrimmar?"

Tavian started to get up, his head pounding slightly from lying down most of the day. "You're the one that brought us here."

"Yeah well... I thought it would distract you, that you'd like to see something different, but apparently nothing so far phases you."

Tavian shrugged and pulled on his pack. "Lead the way."

A day later the overland trip to Ratchet had not done all that much to improve Tavian's mood, and Kiril had left him alone on the dock with their belongings to make a "quick trip" to the Cross Roads to try to get some news about current happenings in Kalimdor. As much as Tavian relished the idea of sitting around another dusty Horde settlement, he chose to pass on the whole experience and so was instead sitting on the dock in Ratchet feeling as if his brains were slowly boiling away in the noonday sun. Had he been paying much attention Tavian might have found the slowly growing gathering on the dock an interesting study in the anthropology of Azeroth, but as it was he barely paid any attention to the various races that were milling about, Horde and Alliance eying each other warily, though generally being respectful. The bruisers on the dock looked tense as if expecting a skirmish to break out at any moment. Had he been paying attention he might have noticed the arrival of a group of Kaldorei before one of them detached himself from the group and approached him slowly, addressing him in what sounded like common.

Startled he looked up to see a tall elven man looking down at him with a bland smile. He had dark green hair which was loosely braided down his back and blueish gray skin that reminded Tavian of the color of twilight. Tavian realized this was the first time he had been so close to one of the Kaldorei and hadn't had one of his daggers in it. Had his mind been clear those golden eyes might have intrigued him, but as it was he really just didn't want to be bothered by anyone. Still he couldn't help giving him a once over and noticing that his leather clothing was handmade and that he wasn't wearing any shoes, his bare feet apparently perfectly at home on the rough wooden boards.

"I'm sorry I don't speak common," he said in Thalassian, looking away again.

The night elf tilted his head to the side and cleared his throat, trying again. He pointed out at the sparkling blue water and the cove shores and said, "It's beautiful," in a thickly accented attempt at Thalassian.

Tavian glanced up at him again and the larger male elf gave him a grin. Tavian couldn't help the small derisive chuckle this brought from him. He lifted his long black hair off of his neck and shook his head. "It's hot."

"Hot?" he rolled the word around in his mouth for a moment and then nodded, "Ah, dur," the Kaldorei replied, nodding and looking back over the water.

"Ishura! Ishura!" the cry broke the relative quiet of the docks, sending several sea birds crying into the air. Tavian turned his head sharply and saw one of the other Kaldorei, a woman with long dark blue hair and glowing silvery eyes, beckoning the man who had come to stand next to him down the dock. With a sigh the night elf man waved back to her, and then turned to Tavian, nodded, and went back to his companions. Tavian shrugged. Strange bunch, the Kaldorei.

The day wore on, and the sun climbed higher. Tavian couldn't believe that Kiril was still gone and that the boat had not arrived yet. The dock was starting to get crowded, and in an attempt to remain separate from the others he now sat very close to the edge. He was starting to feel dizzy and wondered if maybe he should have eaten more or at least thought to have some water on hand. He supposed he could walk back up to the inn, but that would mean carrying both his and Kiril's things up there and losing his sitting place. Panting slightly he leaned over the edge of the dock to look into the clear blue water. He stared for a few moments watching the fish below the surface come in and out of focus and then slowly watched as his own reflection settled on the surface of the water. He hadn't actually looked at himself since he left Silvermoon. His eyes were hollow and his skin looked pale and drawn. His dark hair fell forward over one shoulder listlessly. Tavian leaned farther forward, wanting to get a better look at himself. He looked ill... he looked like Tashin. The thought of his beloved twin hit him hard enough to steal away his breath. His eyebrows furrowed and he mouthed Tashin's name, his lips forming loving around the word. The farther he leaned forward, the closer he came to the image of his twin and the dizzier Tavian became. His body was prickling with an itchy, cold sweat, but he didn't notice. He could almost feel Tashin's lips pressed to his, taste his familiar flavor, smell him... He thought of his face in lovemaking and closed his eyes, going limp as he tumbled from the dock and into the water.

Kiril, who had been watching Tavian with increasing concern as he ambled down the steep road leading into Ratchet, cried out as he saw his cousin fall like a dark-haired stone from the dock into the deep, clear water. "Tavian!" and spurred his blue hawkstrider forward. His eyes fixed on the ripples on the surface of the water, expecting Tavian to surface again immediately, the young priest did not notice all of the eyes that turned to him or the sharp intake of breath that was drowned out by the now buzzing crowd of passengers on the dock. When the rogue did not break the surface and Kiril saw Tavian's dark form only slowly floating to the surface, he screamed Tavian's name again, jumping from his strider's back and hitting the water at a run, trying to wade into the deep water, but his robes made it difficult for him to move quickly, the sodden fabric becoming heavy and entrapping his legs, causing him to stumble clumsily as he splashed through the water trying to get to Tavian all the way at the end of the dock.

There was the flat sound of bare feet pounding over the worn boards of the dock, and the gawking crowd parted to make way for the Kaldorei man who had addressed Tavian earlier, and who had surreptitiously watched him from a distance, concerned by the sense of hopelessness he had exuded. Sprinting the length of the dock he dove with perfectly executed form into the sparkling water, his body shifting almost instantly to that of a sea lion which slipped through the water like a knife. Powerful jaws closed around the fabric of Tavian's tunic as he was hauled through the water toward the shore. Kiril waited breathlessly, snatching his cousin into his arms from the druid and pulling him up onto the sloping shore, laboring through the weight of the rogue and the weight of his sodden robes. Lying Tavian down on his back Kiril panted in fear and concern as he hurriedly leaned down, slapping at Tavian's face, listening for breath and a heartbeat.

"Tavian! Tavian?!" he cried, quailing to see the rogue so pale. He hadn't been in the water that long, had he? He pressed his ear to Tavian's chest. His heart was beating, but he was not breathing. Kiril tipped Tavian's head back and plugged the rogue's nose, pressing their lips together and forcing air into his lungs. Once. Twice. Three times he breathed into Tavian and at the end of the third breath Tavian spasmed and coughed, filling Kiril's mouth with salt water. The priest gagged and turned his face away, spitting the disgustingly warm, viscous fluid out onto the ground and wretched a couple times. Tavian gagged himself and coughed again, rolling weakly towards his side. Neither of them noticed the druid as he shifted again, crawling out of the water to Kiril's side. They could not see the disbelieving look in his golden eyes as he reached out to touch the ends of Kiril's vibrant hair and rest a shaking hand on his back as if to comfort as the priest continued to cough, trying to get the taste and feel of the water out of his mouth.

When Kiril did finally realize that someone was touching him he spun around, slapping the hand away defensively, panting to catch his breath. But when he saw the druid crouched beside him his breath was once again lost. Golden eyes set in a fine, dusk-colored face looked back at him as shocked as he felt. Pieces of dark green hair which had pulled free of his long braid clung wetly to his face. A piece of seaweed had become stuck in it just behind one of his long ears.

"Tamarack..." Kiril heard himself breath. His heart beat so hard in his chest he could not catch his breath. He did not know what he was feeling, but it was making him dizzy. His mouth had gone completely dry.

A smile, wondering and dazzling began to spread on the druid's face and he reached out to touch the priest. Kiril slapped the hand away abruptly without hesitation. The druid recoiled slightly, furrowing his brows uncertainly. "Thero'shan...?"

Kiril shook his head, setting his face stonily, turning back to Tavian who was lying on his side, panting into the dirt. "No," he hissed. "Not now." Blindly, shaking, but with determination Kiril got his arms around Tavian and hauled him to his feet. The rogue windmilled his arms and swayed a bit, stumbling as Kiril began to drag him up the slope. All eyes were trained on them, curious about the drama that was unfolding too quietly for any of them to hear. Kiril tried not to look at them, but now he could not help but see the group of Kaldorei standing together at the end of the dock, knowing instinctively that most of them were druids, but recognizing also the Sentinel woman, Amarra, who he had known as Tamarack's niece. The strangest feeling of weakness came over him and his legs gave out, causing him to stumble to his knees, dragging Tavian who was still disoriented himself down with him.

Cursing under his breath, Kiril started to get back to his feet, tripping over the wet hem of his robes. He made a pained sound when he felt the heavy warmth of hands helping him up. He tried to wrench out of them, but they did not let him go until he was on his feet. Kiril shook, forcing himself not to look back over his shoulder, but he could feel Tamarack's presence there like the heat of a burning bonfire. He reached for Tavian who was already slowly, dazedly, getting back to his feet. His cousin looked utterly unwell in body, mind, and spirit. The peal of the bell announcing the arrival of the ship finally sounded. Pursing his lips together Kiril held up the hem of his sodden robes with one hand and drug Tavian back down the dock through the crowd with the other. They were given a wide berth, none of the onlookers quite sure exactly what was going on with the two Sindorei and the Kaldorei druid who seemed torn between following them and going back to his companions.

"What were you thinking?" Kiril hissed, shoving Tavian towards the bed in their cabin and slamming the door shut with his foot. The rogue stumbled a bit and then shrugged lethargically.

"I don't know," he said softly, his voice distant. "I was so hot... I looked into the water and I saw... I saw Tash, and I just... fell."

"You almost drowned!" Kiril shouted, channeling is restless feelings towards the rogue, beginning to strip him out of his soaking clothes with a viciousness that belied his agitation. Tavian's hands moved slowly as if to help Kiril with his clothing, but the priest slapped them away as they were just getting in his way. He grumbled under his breath as he peeled away the wet leather clothing, tossing it to the side in a soggy, salty heap until Tavian was completely naked, shivering and pale. The priest shoved him towards the bed again. "Now lie down! And don't do anything stupid while I put your clothes somewhere to dry."

Tavian did as he was told, numbly pulling the covers on the questionable looking bed back and slipping underneath, still shivering. Kiril looked over at him, and then began to angrily tug his own wet clothes off, replacing them with a pair of loose, dry cloth pants and a simple green shirt. There was no need to don any of his battle gear on the ship. If anyone started any trouble the crew would not hesitate to toss them overboard.

"Who saved me?" Tavian murmured softly.

"It's not important," Kiril snapped, not really understanding why he felt so out of sorts.

"It was that Kaldorei, wasn't it?" Tavian went on slowly. "The one that talked to me. He said the cove was beautiful, and I just said it was hot. He had a terrible accent."

Kiril paused and looked over at Tavian. He could feel his eyes stinging and a lump forming in his throat. He hated the way it felt. He had become so good at keeping all of this at bay... 'Beautiful,' one of the few Thalassian words Tamarack had wanted to learn so that he could whisper it in Kiril's ear when they made love. Fighting back tears that felt angry, happy, and sad all at the same time Kiril scowled. "Sounds like something stupid he would say." But this was lost on Tavian. He had already fallen asleep.

Going to the bedside Kiril looked down at his distant cousin and pulled his damp hair back from his face. He was now more worried about Tavian than he had been before. The depth of his heartbreak was to the point where it was affecting his mind, his judgment, his health. He'd hoped that distractions were what Tavian truly needed. That once he was out in the world experiencing it as he had always longed to do he would see that there could be plenty of life beyond Tashin. He had hoped that his separation from his twin would make him well, not ill. This wasn't going to be as simple as he had hoped. And now things in his own carefully maintained emotional state were being thrown into upheaval. What in the name of the Light was Tamarack Strongbough doing in Ratchet traveling to Booty Bay on the exact same day he happened to be there with Tavian? Why had he spoken to Tavain at all? And why had he been the one to pull the rogue from the water? Kiril bit his bottom lip as he gathered up their wet clothing. He knew what Tamarack would say, and the stupid, indulgent smile he would say it with. "Fate."

With a grumble and a grunt Kiril yanked the door to the hallway open and nearly tripped over the bare feet of the druid that was already filling up his mind. Tamarack looked up at him expectantly from where he sat against the wall of the narrow corridor, gaze soft and concerned, filled with uncertainly and longing. The look made Kiril's stomach twist and for a moment he simply stared back unable to keep himself from drinking in the sight of the druid who looked like a dog waiting for reassurance from a beloved master. Finally Kiril forced himself to look away and step over the druid's legs. "What are you doing here?" he hissed, falling into an uncomfortable, rusty common tongue.

"Waiting for you," Tamarack replied obviously.

"Clearly," Kiril answered, trying to keep himself from shaking. "Why?"

Tamarack got to his feet and began to follow after the priest. "Because I have not seen you in six years, and you are the light of my heart. What more reason do I need?"

Kiril felt his heart skip a beat and his breath caught in his throat. The words made him dizzy with their obvious sense, but also infuriated him. Tamarack's straightforward and yet utterly obtuse logic had always had that effect on him. "Perhaps you should consider whether or not I wish to see you," he snapped.

"Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?"

Kiril turned around now to face him, his fiery spirit flaring up past his usually calm, priestly exterior. "Because I hate you!" he spat.

Whatever response or reaction he thought this would get out of the druid it wasn't the one he got. "You can't possibly hate me," Tamarack chuckled. "You loved me enough to defy your family, your people, and your life to be with me. You love me still, or else your pride would not keep trying so hard to convince us both that you don't."

Kiril bristled. "Have you considered that maybe I love you and hate you at the same time? No matter why you did it or what the result was you betrayed me. I have had a lot of time to think about that."

Tamarack stepped closer, one of his eyebrows arched. His expression was amused, and this made Kiril angrier, but also made his stomach twist. "Then you've had a lot of time to realize that what I did was for the best for both of us. Just like I said at the time. And what has it cost us except time and tears?"

Now Kiril really did draw his face into a mask of anger. He stepped forward angrily, glaring up at the druid. "It cost me a -lot-. It cost me the choice to become Sindorei. Look at my eyes, Tamarack, can you see in them what it cost me? Can you see the things I have seen, what I have sacrificed and suffered for my people now? It cost me much more than time and tears to return to Quel'thalas. It cost me self."

Tamarack looked back at him evenly. "But you have gained self as well. You didn't want to be a selfish child forever, did you?" His lips quirked upwards at the corner.

Kiril glared at him for a moment more, feeling his resolve start to crack as he was drawn in by that budding smile and those steadfast golden eyes. Flaring his nostrils he turned away abruptly mumbling under his breath, "I need to put these somewhere to dry." He stalked down the narrow corridor and up the stairs to the main deck aware of Tamarack dogging his heels. The tips of his fingers brushed the small of Kiril's back and the priest shot him a dirty look over his shoulder, but the druid only smiled back. It was windy on the deck and Kiril's long red hair was caught and blown in it haphazardly. He could sense the druid watching it. He had always been particular to Kiril's hair. The priest blushed in spite of himself and began savagely laying the wet clothes on a piece of cargo netting stretched over some crates. He secured the articles by weaving them through the net, taking particular care of Tavian's things.

"Is he a lover?"

Kiril looked back over his shoulder at Tamarack who was leaning against a nearby mast, eying him carefully. "What would make you think that?"

Tamarack shrugged. "You obviously care about him greatly. You travel with him, you were fearful for his life, you touch his clothes with affection."

Kiril opened his mouth to respond and made a couple false starts finding that he could only get anything out when he looked away again. "He's not... my lover. I mean we've... once, but it was a long time ago. Tavian is a distant cousin, and a childhood friend. And I do care for him greatly, but I've had no 'lover' since I left you."

"What is wrong with him? He's ill."

"He has a broken heart. It will mend," Kiril said a bit sharply, and stood up. When he turned around it was to find Tamarack standing directly in front of him, close enough that they were almost touching. He gasped and tried to step back, but the netting and crates were behind him.

"Thero'shan," Tamarack murmured, putting his hands tightly on Kiril's narrow waist, pulling him closer and leaning down.

"Tamarack!" Kiril growled, clutching at his wrists, trying to pry his hands off, but the closeness of the man he both loved and hated and the smell of him rendered Kiril useless in his struggles. He swallowed as he felt the druid's breath on his cheek. "W-wait!"

"Again you ask me to wait, and again I cannot," the druid murmured deeply inhaling the scent of Kiril's skin. "It's been six years, thero'shan. I let you go only because I vowed it would not be forever. I have waited for fate to deliver you to me once more, and it has. This is the moment I will not wait for you any longer."

"You can't just- mmph-" Kiril's words were cut short as the druid's lips silenced him forcefully. His fingers constricted against his wrists, clawing into his twilight colored skin. He closed his eyes tightly, powerless to do anything but sway weakly in Tamarack's grip, and give himself into the kiss as he was filled with his taste and feel, so familiar and missed it nearly made him scream. But a part of the priest still struggled against the part that wanted to throw itself into the druid and never look back. There was too much to risk, it said. There would be too much pain. He had worked so hard to become stoic and unwavering. He could not throw it all away now... not after all he had suffered. But hadn't returning to Tamarack's embrace been what his heart had so long longed for..? The cacophony of confusing emotions and voices in his head began to drown out the wonder of simply kissing Tamarack again. Kiril began to struggle and placed his hands firmly on the druid's chest pushing him away hard enough to break the kiss.

"Stop! Stop it!" he panted. He was shaking. Tamarack looked down at him bewildered and began to pull him back into his arms. "No!" Kiril shoved him away again. "You can't just show up in my life somehow and try to tell me that everything is the way it was. It's not!"

"But it can be... it will be..." Tamarack said, trying again to pull him closer.

"No it can't! I'm not who I was. I'm a member of a race that is now part of the Horde, Tamarack."

"What does that matter? It doesn't matter, and certainly not to a druid."

Kiril continued to pull away, struggling to get out of Tamarack's grasp, but the druid now let him go willingly. "It can't just be that easy, Tam. You can't just make it that easy," he said, his voice wavering as he shook his head, trying to keep the tears he felt forming from falling. He stumbled away from the druid, down the deck, and back below to the cabins. Tamarack did not follow him, and it was with a gasp of relief and pain that Kiril ducked through the door into the cabin he shared with Tavian and bolted it behind him. He turned around with a sigh, running a hand through his hair and froze, regarding the scene before him in disbelief.

"Tavian what are you doing?" he said slowly. The rogue was sitting crosslegged backwards on a chair which he had pulled to the wall where a filthy mirror hung crookedly. He was staring at himself and holding one of his daggers up near his face with one hand. In the other he held a chunk of his long black hair. For the briefest moment he was afraid that his cousin was about to plunge the dagger into his own throat, but then to his horror Kiril watched as Tavian mechanically began sawing off the beautiful locks, and as he watched them fall to the floor he realized that it was already littered with strands of his hair. Kiril watched as piece after piece fell tot he floor. The more hair fell away the more tears leaked from Tavian's fel green eyes. "What are you doing?" he repeated.

"I can't stand to look at myself and think of him," he said numbly. "I have his face and I... I can't change that. This is all I can do..."

Kiril came up behind him now, putting a hand over Tavian's as it gripped the dagger. It was shaking, and his once beautiful hair was a sad mess of chopped lengths. Kiril took the dagger from Tavian's hand, soothingly running his fingers through the mangled locks. Tavian closed his eyes and slumped forward slightly, letting out a shuddering sob. "Let me fix it," Kiril said softly.


	9. Conflicts

((Comment: I'm very happy for all the positive feedback I've been getting for the story. :) Thank you those of you who have left reviews: Chocobo-Angel, Ell, Siran, Yusta, Saturnia, Maye and Dancer, and Hitokimi. 3 I really appreciate the excitement for the story. ^_^ And sorry this took some time to get posted. It's been done for a bit, but I just kept forgetting __;;;. That and I had some writer's block there for a while, but I really liked writing this chapter. The story slowly reveals itself to me as well. Hehe. Also I would like to share with you a couple beautiful fanarts of my boys that my dear friend Chee made for me over on y!Gallery (also where I post this story). http://yaoi.y-gallery. net/view/465584/ and http://yaoi.y-gallery. net/view/464617/ (you'll have to copy and past and get rid of the space between . and net, because I had to break the link up to get it to display, but it's worth it!) If you are a yaoi fan and over 18 *cough* and don't know about y!Gallery it is muchly full of awesome and full of awesome people, arts, and writings of pretty much ANY fandom you could ever think of EVAR. I have more writings that I post there than I do here, just because I feel like I shouldn't spam FF. net with TOO much lemony goodness. ^_^;; So please enjoy the next chapter. Also my AIM and e-mail information is available on my profile page, and I am always more than happy to chat with people or answer direct questions/comments.

And also if you are reading this and haven't read the 3-part side story "Light and Balance" you really may want to. ^_^;;))

Conflicts

Despite his ennui Tavian still found himself rising regularly with the sun. It would creep through the dirty single window of the small, equally dirty room he shared in the Booty Bay Inn with Kiril. The sunrise would dazzle off the cerulean waters of the bay, dazzling his tired eyes as he sat up in bed, running a hand through his short black hair. He still wasn't used to it, the way it slipped so suddenly through his fingers, and he still did a double-take when he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His bangs remained swept to the side over one eye, but that was where the similarity ended. His hair had once fallen nearly to his waist and now it didn't even cover the fronts of his ears. Kiril had done a good job of fixing the mangled hacking Tavian had done, it wasn't that it didn't look good, it was just... different.

Glancing to his side Kiril was curled up beside him in the bed, his long orange-red hair wrapped around him like a cloak trailing over the yellowed sheets and his pale skin. He let the priest sleep and slipped silently out of bed, pulling clothes on in an automatic manner not caring what he looked like. Not that it really mattered what he put on. Most of his clothing was nondescript: bland leather breeches and cloth shirts that Sorawen had made. Often he would go about the town barefoot, liking the way the warm, splintered wood of the walkways felt beneath his calloused feet. He ducked out of the room and down into the tavern. In a shipping town built around trade such as Booty Bay most everyone of any importance was up with the sun, and so there was usually drink and hot food to be had even at the early hour of Tavian's waking. His routine for the week they had been there was generally to get a mug of warm ale and whatever hot porridgey substance they were offering that day and then perch himself on one of the crates on the dock and simply watch the day go by. Sitting there in the gloriously hot sun he saw more of the world than he had ever seen in the busy streets of Silvermoon. And although members of other Horde races were occasionally seen in the home city of the Sindorei it paled in comparison to the veritable menagerie of citizens and visitors to this dirty little goblin port.

It was there sitting on that crate that he saw a gnome in life for the first time, unable to keep his mouth closed at its almost grotesquely adorable tininess. He'd seen a dwarf and a tauren, both hunters, arguing good naturedly about their latest kills. Trolls of all shapes and sizes. Humans, orcs, Kaldorei, Sindorei, even the rumored draenei, and the Forsaken, stinking in the hot sun, moved up and down the wooden causeways; all either passing each other in the agreeable silence of truce in this place, or even greeting one another, sharing drinks, stories, a good laugh, or a curled lip but nothing more threatening than a dirty look. And at night the rowdiness of the combined races in the inn was truly something to see. Again Tavian would simply perch himself in a quiet corner and watch as the revelry unfolded, wondrous to behold in its variety. And when inevitably a troll went up to their room with an orc or a human or both, and the two dwarven warriors who had been flirting all night with the Sindorei mages finally convinced them that size was not everything, and eventually the tavern would empty by pairs or threesomes or flocks and the creaking of the wooden slates of the converted ship was intermingled with the soft punctuation of muffled cries, moans, sighs Tavian had to smile, and remember Kiril's words: what happened in Booty Bay stayed in Booty Bay. And although the next morning the tavern was generally full of hangovers and groans it never seemed to be full of regret.

And while Tavian went about his people watching, Kiril did very little but stay in their room and think, his eyes often distant and staring out the window. Tavian knew it had to do with the druid. And even though he had assured Kiril that the small enclave of Kaldorei druids who had come over with them on the ship had left the town, presumably to fulfill whatever duties the Cenarion Circle had sent them to the jungle for in the first place, the priest showed no sign of wanting to emerge for more than a few minutes to get something to eat or take a quick walk down the boardwalks. It worried Tavian. He tried to bring it up with his cousin several times, but Kiril would just shake his head and say, "I don't want to talk about Tamarack."

If they were both a mess who was going to take care of either of them?

This morning, after a week of being in the port, Tavian did as he usually did and perched himself on a crate, mug on his knee, and settled in for a day of people watching. It was mid morning when his routine was broken by the appearance of the druids. They looked tired but excited as if their time in the jungle had been both taxing and invigorating. The only one who didn't look invigorated was the woman who was obviously not a druid. She just looked tired. The dark green haired druid with the twilight colored skin who had pulled him from the water in Ratchet, who Tavian now knew to be Tamarack, what he thought of as "Kiril's druid" spied him and hesitated for a moment before detaching himself from his comrades and coming over to spryly perch himself up next to Tavian. The rogue looked at him and blinked. It felt very strange to be this close to one of the Night Elves, as they were called, and not be sticking his dagger into it. Other than the moments in Ratchet the only interaction he had had with their cousins from Kalimdor was dealing with the ones who had infiltrated the Ghost Lands.

"Ishnu ala," he said with a tired smile.

Tavian returned the smile. "Anaria shola."

They chuckled at one another a little awkwardly, and the druid surprised him by reaching out to run his fingers through the short hair at the back of his head, one eyebrow raised, clearly asking why on earth he had cut off his hair. Tavian just shrugged and looked away, shaking his head with a sigh. After a few moments the druid pulled his knees up close to his chest, looping his long arms around them. "Kiril?" he asked softly.

Tavian tugged at one of his ears sheepishly. He knew Kiril would be angry with him for talking to Tamarack, especially about him, but he secretly felt for the druid and thought Kiril was being a bit pig-headed. He knew that if hadn't seen the one he loved for years on end there wouldn't be a whole lot they could have done that would have kept him out of their arms. But then Kiril had always followed his head a lot more than his heart, it was one of the things that made them such good friends. They balanced each other well. Giving the druid a sheepish smile he pointed up at the inn and said, "Sleeping maybe. Thinking?" He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't know."

Tamarack sighed and leaned forward to put his chin on his knees. Sympathizing Tavian put a hand on the druid's back, patting comfortingly and then picking a piece of the jungle out of his thick braid. They sat thusly for a few moments, strangers connected by a single common thread and a mutual suffering of the heart. Then Tamarack looked over at Tavian and raised a hopeful eyebrow, nodding toward the inn, and then pointing, saying something in a language Tavian didn't understand. But he knew that Tamarack was asking him to show him where Kiril was staying, or possibly even take him to the priest. Tavian bit his lip and shook his head no.

"Not a good idea," he said.

"Please," the druid responded, "Ash surfal." The painful, pleading quality of his voice was enough to make Tavian sigh and slide down from the crate, motioning the Kaldorei after him. His rogue's senses told him that he did not like having the tall elf at his back, but he forced himself to swallow these feelings and lead him up through the inn. He hesitated at the door to the room he shared with Kiril, looking back over his shoulder, finding the look of anticipation on Tamarack's face almost painful. He knocked for some reason, though he wouldn't have done so if he were alone and then entered.

Kiril was sitting in a chair dressed, staring out the window as he often seemed to do. He turned his head slowly to regard Tavian and then startled, bolting to his feet when he saw Tamarack over his shoulder.

"What is he doing here?!" he shouted, pointing.

Tavian put up his hands defensively. "He wanted to see you."

"Tavian why do you think I've been staying locked in our room? I don't want to see him!" Kiril snapped.

"Well..." Tavian said with a shrug, "I think you're being foolish. Deal with your feelings, Kiril. I need you to have your head straight, because I can't do this alone." With that he turned and pushed back past the druid, letting him farther into the room as he left, shutting the door behind him. Bare feet slapping softly on the floorboards he went to find another drink and return to his sunspot.

Kiril and Tamarack faced each other in silence for a few long moments. Kiril's face was hard, but his lips and fists were trembling. Tamarack just stared at him softly and then suddenly stepped forward. "Thero'shan..."

Kiril stepped back around the chair, putting it between them. "Go away."

Tamarack halted. "You don't meant that."

"Then why do I keep saying it?" Kiril snapped.

"I don't know. But please, thero'shan..." he stepped forward again, trying to reach for the priest around the chair, but Kiril maneuvered out of the way, pulling out of his grasp each time, stepping around the chair to keep it between them.

"Stop trying to grab me," Kiril hissed.

"Then just come here," Tamarack replied, making another grab for the red-head's wrist, and growling in frustration when he could not grasp it.

"No. What do you want?"

"What do you think I want?" Tamarack said loudly. "I want you."

"You have no right-" But Kiril's words were cut off by a loud crash as Tamarack suddenly grasped the back of the chair and flung it savagely against the wall hard enough to break one of its legs.

"Stop this!" he shouted. "This is foolishness, thero'shan!" He glared at the Sindorei priest who was now staring at him wide eyed and nervous. Kiril's chest rose and fell sharply. It had been a very rare occasion that Kiril had ever seen Tamarack lose his temper or become violent towards anything. He was frightened, not of him, but of his intensity. He stood silently, watching Tamarack as the druid took several deep breaths and then advanced on him, backing Kiril against the wall. The priest swallowed and looked up into golden eyes which seemed to burn into him. "Do you truly want me to leave?" Tamarack rasped.

Kiril opened his mouth, working his lips around the word before it finally came out. "Yes."

"Then tell me that you do not love me."

"I hate you."

"That is not the same thing," Tamarack replied now putting his hands on Kiril's body, one on his hip, the other his cheek, thumb stroking along his cheekbone.

Kiril closed his eyes, feeling his body want to melt into those touches. He made a trapped, miserable sound, flinching back from the druid and his feelings. "Tam... don't..."

"Then tell me you don't love me."

"I already told you that I hate you," Kiril hissed, looking into his eyes defiantly, but the gaze wavered as Tamarack's thumb moved to his lips.

"Is that all you can say? Because I'm not impressed," Tamarack murmured as his body came closer until it was pressed against the priest. Kiril remembered this trick. He had played it on the him the day Aeltha came to fetch him home. Trapped against the wall and his warm body Kiril had nowhere to go, and nothing to do but give in. He pushed ineffectually against Tamarack's chest, but his body was beginning to tremble. Slowly those lips came upon his again, tasting of all things Tamarack. It was a languid, hot thing that he felt himself pulled into against his will. Or was it? He didn't even know anymore. Days of thinking had done nothing to clear his head.

"I hate you," he whispered harshly as their lips parted slightly.

"You have a bad habit of repeating yourself, thero'shan," Tamarack murmured back against those perfect lips, moving his hand from Kiril's hip to the small of his back, pulling him more tightly to him. "You always have." They kissed again, Kiril's skin flushing hotly as their tongues brushed together and his hands began to move to Tamarack's shoulders. It was becoming all too clear to his logical mind what his heart and body had known all along: he wanted this, had longed for it, had dreamed about it, had feared it. He was not the person he once was. When he met Tamarack he had been a spoiled brat, the son of a rich house that he rebelled against simply for the sake of rebellion. He had never experienced hardship or heartache. He had never sacrificed anything for anyone. And although he had told himself that not returning to Quel'thalas was a sacrifice he was making for Tamarack, it had truly been returning that was the sacrifice. And although Tamarack had been the one who had begun to open his eyes it was only since that time that he had seen so many terrible things, lost and ached over so much, his own grace, the suffering of his people, sickness, corruption, the festering of a wound across the soul of the Quel'dorei and Sindorei alike that was slowly spreading its infection. He fought against these things, fought to repair them, to rebuild, had sacrificed, found a calling, faith, the Light... Could he love Tamarack as the person he was now as he had then and vice versa? And even with love renewed could they ever truly be together or would he just lose him again and again as one or both of them were pulled in different directions in their duties? Wasn't it better to simply let the dull ache remain forever rather than rip the wound open to bleed all over again every time they met? But Kiril knew it was already too late for that. It had been since the moment he saw him on the beach in Ratchet.

"I hate you..." he was on the verge of tears, his voice catching. Those strong fingers in his hair, clutching pulling, demanding another kiss. It made him delirious and dizzy, hungry and desperate as he clutched at the druid. Those firm, warm lips covering his own. That slick tongue in his mouth. His scent. The pressure of his body. It was enough to make Kiril want to scream. When their lips broke apart this time there were frustrated tears running down the priest's face. "I love you," he sobbed this time, broken apart by the inevitable truth of his words.

He was lifted then into Tamarack's arms, hoisted up to wrap his legs around the druid's waist. They continued to kiss, clinging to each other as he was pressed against the wall for a moment more and then carried to the bed where he was tossed down and immediately covered with the weight and pressure of Tamarack's larger body. Clothing was removed by hasty, clutching hands and soon their bodies were naked and grappling in the messy sheets.

Tamarack murmured to him over and over again, "Dalah surfal... dalah... dalah..."

Kiril could do little but arch against him, hands clutching as he whimpered and moaned, feeling adrift in his own body. All he wanted to feel was the druid, tears and fears be damned. His legs opened wide, spreading apart wantonly. He wanted Tamarack inside of him now, and he told the druid as much. He didn't care if it had been 6 years since had given himself to anyone, the last of course being Tamarack. He didn't care if he was prepared. He was simply consumed by need. His breath caught in the first few glorious moments as their bodies came together. It was his favorite part of love making, those first intense moments of sensation and joining. They were, of course, over all too fast as Tamarack pushed further and further into him, filling him with a burning intensity of pain and pleasure. The priest wrapped himself around his druid as tightly as he could, legs and arms clinging to him as he tossed his head back, red hair spilling around him, as he arched his back and neck recklessly.

They made forceful, passionate love. They bit and scratched, kissed and cried out. They made each other come and tremble. They took turns taking each other, tasting each other, giving in to one another. Bodies slick with sweat and cum, barely able to speak or even breath from exhaustion they coupled in the final throws deep into the evening. Tamarack was astride Kiril's hips, taking him deeply as the priest lay back, fingernails scratching along the druid's muscular thighs. His long green hair had long ago come undone and tumbled down his back, damply clinging to the curve of his spine. Moaning deeply Tamarack leaned back, hands finding the sheets behind him, clutching them as he used the leverage to rock himself weakly against Kiril. The muscles of his thighs flexed and relaxed with each thrust, and both of their breaths were coming in panting sobs, neither of them able to make a sound. He moaned pitifully as he climaxed again, as if despairing that he knew this was the end of their lovemaking for the day. The force of previous ejaculations was no longer present, and Tamarack spent only a small amount of seed, some of it splashing across Kiril's belly, but most of it dribbling back down his penis as it began to go soft. Ready to collapse he gasped one last time, tightening his abused inner muscles as he felt Kiril come as well, a distant increase in the full wetness within him.

Moaning, panting, shaking the druid tumbled down onto the bed ignoring all else but the desire to have Kiril in his arms. Weakly they embraced each other, neither of them able to speak yet. After a time their frantic heartbeats calmed and their breath returned. Kissing Tamarack's face, arms weakly around him, Kiril whispered, "Now what happens?"

"Now we love each other forever."

****

He had not wanted to return to the dormitories beneath Murder Row, but Elias had insisted that he do, knowing it was necessary. Everything about that place reminded him of Tavian. This had been Tavian's world, a place Tashin had never truly felt at home. And it was also the place where everything had gone so terribly wrong. The tiny alcove in which they had made their home together for a time was immaculate. The blankets over the mattress had been straightened and pulled up, the pillows neatly stacked against the wall. All of Tavian's things were gone, and Tashin's own few belongings had been neatly packed and sat waiting for him. It hurt Tashin to see all of this and know that Tavian had been there before he left the city. That he had taken the time to arrange the room thusly, and pack away Tashin's things. He could almost see his brother's hands working, shaking slightly but efficient as he numbly, mechanically went about his work. He lay down for a moment on the bed, pulling a pillow tightly against his face and inhaling. Light it still smelled like him. Suddenly Tashin's entire body ached and he let out a barking sob though he had no tears to accompany it.

"Tashin? Someone told me you were here. I'm surprised; I wasn't sure you were going to return... or even that you were alive." The smooth, cold voice drew the young rogue's gaze, peering over the top of the pillow. Zelanis stood in the opening to the alcove, holding the curtain back with one hand. His short, flaxen hair shone dully in the dim lighting of the underground room. His sharp, handsome face was set in an expression of cold curiosity.

Tashin propped himself up, embarrassed to be caught thusly. He looked away from Zelanis' face, shrugging. "I just came to get my things."

Zelanis made a soft tsking sound. "Really? Where are you going?"

Tashin suddenly felt very uncomfortable. He had never had much interaction with Zelanis, but he knew that Tavian both respected and feared him. Would the older rogue try to detain him? To keep him in his service? No... not if he knew... "Elias Seregon's estate. He's caring for my health in Tavian's absence. He's expecting me soon." Tashin made sure to make eye contact with Zelanis. He knows where I am. He will come looking for me.

The rogue raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. "Is that so? I know he was very..." Zelanis paused as if searching for the right word his lips finally working around it exaggeratedly, "fond of Tavian. How good of him to take care of you."

"My family is compensating him for his trouble," Tashin went on, still maintaining eye contact. They too will come looking for me.

"Ah," the rogue looked down, a thin smile playing on his lips. "Well then take care of yourself. I had hoped perhaps to continue your training, but if you are not well you should concentrate on your health. Still, should you wish to continue you know where to find us. Even spoiled rich kids can benefit from some experience under their belts."

"I'll remember that. Thank you, Zelanis." He lowered his gaze now, wishing the older rogue would just go away, but he lingered a few moment longer. The silence became tense and unnerving, though Tashin did not fully understand why. Finally Zelanis shifted and cleared his throat.

"Well your rent is paid up until the end of the week, so take your time with your things. Though it looks like you don't have much to get together." With that he let the thick curtain fall back, leaving Tashin in near darkness. He waited to hear Zelanis' footsteps recede through the common room and then did not linger. He grabbed his pack and the pillow he had been clutching and left the tiny alcove behind. His heart was beating faster than he liked, and it ached besides. He felt a short, but intense chapter of his life ending, and it hurt. He knew that no matter what happened between him and Tavian in the future they would never have their time together in that tiny little place that had been theirs and only theirs again.

By the time he reached Elias' estate again he was slightly out of breath and had to sit down heavily on the floor, dropping his pack and the pillow as soon as he closed the front door behind him. He panted for a time, pressing the heel of his hand against his chest. He sat thusly for a few long moments before trying to get back to his feet, feeling weak and shaky. "E-elias?" he called out, fearful that he might faint.

A moment later the paladin appeared from the kitchen wearing one of the ridiculously frilly aprons that Lyritta made for him. Tashin would have almost laughed if he wasn't feel like he might collapse. "You're back- Oh, Light." Elias was at his side in a moment hands guiding him back down to the floor. "Take deep breathes," he said in his deep, soothing voice. Those strong hands loosened the front of Tashin's shirt and then began to work a small healing spell, bringing Tashin's heart rate down and soothing his frayed nerves. "Did something happen?" he asked after Tashin began to breath evenly.

Tashin shook his head, now a bit dizzy from both the episode and the tingly feeling of the Light weaving through his body. "No... I just... I don't know. Zelanis was there. I didn't expect to see him. I guess it startled me."

"Zelanis talked to you?" Elias asked his voice surprised, and then it dropped lower in tone. "What did he say? What did you tell him?"

Tashin looked the paladin in the eyes and shook his head. "Not much. He was surprised to see me and asked where I was going. He... he gave me a strange feeling."

"What kind of feeling? What did you tell him?" Elias seemed genuinely concerned, almost alarmed.

Tashin closed his eyes for a moment and wet his dry lips with his tongue. "I had this feeling like he might try to make me stay... to do the kinds of things he made Tavian do. I told him the truth, that I'm staying with you. I knew he wouldn't do anything then, because you'd know where I was."

Elias' hands where still on his chest and neck, applying a soothing pressure. His expression became hard and thoughtful, slightly concerned. "That was good. And what do mean: the kinds of things he made Tavian do?"

Tashin shook his head, feeling tears start to rise as he had to think and talk about his beloved twin. He looked down, hair falling into his eyes. "I don't know. Tavian would never talk to me about it, but there were nights he was gone all night, sometimes for days. And he smelled so often of blood, and his boots would be covered in mud and he would be pale and..." And he would always wake me to make desperate, needy love, which I never denied him.

Elias rocked back on his heels, his expression now distant and thoughtful. He clasped his hands together between his knees and simply stared into space for a time. Tashin watched his face, wondering what the paladin was thinking. Finally he looked back at Tashin. "I don't want you to go back there, or to talk to him. And if he does approach you tell me about it. Promise me."

Tashin blinked, not particularly liking to be told what to do, but also not having enough energy to want to fight about it. He nodded. He didn't want anything else to do with the rogue anyway. "But isn't Zelanis your old friend? You don't trust him?"

Elias gave Tashin a long look and then shrugged with a sigh. "I don't know. I do know he is very capable of using people, even me." After a moment he reached out to pat Tashin's head and ruffle his hair slightly. "Are you feeling well enough now?"

Tashin couldn't help but color slightly at the affectionate gesture. It make him feel childish, like Elias was patronizing him, but it also comforted him. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but a part of him relished and needed the attention he got from the paladin. His care had been meticulous and genuine since Tashin had finally gotten himself up and around again. It has been a week and the young rogue knew that without Elias there with him he may never have gotten out of that bed, and he certainly would be bereft of most feeling or will to live. But Elias had challenged him to prepare himself for a day when he would see Tavian again and be able to look him in the eyes. Where once he had resented Elias for his uncanny ability to see through his disguises and defenses, he was now beginning to be relieved and appreciative of this. It meant that maybe the paladin would help him see through himself.

"Yes, I'll be alright," he murmured.

"Then perhaps you should go lie down. I don't want you taxing yourself physically or emotionally. I'm making dinner; I'll get you when it's ready," he smiled softly at Tashin and helped him to his feet, handing him his pack and the pillow. He paused for a moment with it in his hands and Tashin knew that Elias, too, could smell Tavian on it. He reached for it slowly, the distant, suddenly sad expression on the holy paladin's face making him angry and empathetic at the same time.

"You miss him, too, don't you?" he asked, almost against his will, voice tight.

Elias looked up at him, seemingly surprised as he handed the thing over. "Of course. You of all people know how I felt for him."

Remembering his hateful words Tashin colored again and looked away. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I should never have said those things to you."

Elias did not respond right away and Tashin could not bring himself to look up at him until he felt Elias' hand come to rest on his shoulder and squeeze it gently. When he did look up Elias was regarding him with a tight, sad smile, but the look in his eyes was genuine. "You're doing well, Tashin. Go lie down. I will call you for dinner."

Tashin nodded and ducked out from under Elias' grasp to make his way up the curving ramp to the second floor. Once alone in his room he let out a long, troubled sigh and then threw himself down on the bed, once again clutching the pillow to him. It was only a matter of moments before he was asleep, surrounded by the smell of Tavian.

Returning to the kitchen Elias went about preparing dinner deep in thought. Did he trust Zelanis? No, he didn't think so. Yes, he was an old friend, but that meant that Elias knew the rogue almost better than anyone. And lately the things Elias had been noticing disturbed him, though it seemed that few others in Silvermoon City were even paying attention. It hadn't been a coincidence that he had met Tashin at a public debate between Kael'thas' supporters and dissenters. He had been closely following this particular political thread almost since the day their prince had left them for the Outland. At first any doubt in Kael'thas was small and easily dismissed as the mutterings of a frightened, disheartened people who felt partially abandoned by their leader. And for a time as the city was rebuilt and one of the naaru was delivered to them by their prince so that they might regain the powers of the Light his support had been overwhelming. But it was also with the enslavement of the naaru that the first true tremors of doubt from those like Elias who keenly felt the corruption of participating in such a thing. Since that time the dissenters had slowly grown in number and influence, especially with the reports reaching the city from the Outland. Reports of Kael's increasing corruption and the allegiances he was making. Could their prince truly have allied himself with Illidan and the naga queen? Did their people not understand and learn from their history? And what of the reports of those that called themselves The Scryers who had allied themselves with the naaru in the Outland, turning their back on Kael'thas and his decent into madness. If these things were true how could any of their people in good conscience continue to put their faith in him and follow his teachings and his vision for their future? A growing number of the Sindorei had decided they could not, many of them adventurers who had returned from Outland, but far from all.

The day that Elias had first met Tashin he had been at the public debate as a supporter of those who spoke against Kael'thas and sought alternative ways to manage their arcane addiction and rebuild their civilization. But even then he had noticed a disturbing permanent silencing of wagging tongues that spoke out against Kael'thas. At first it seemed like a random series of thefts that had gone bad, but the harder Elias looked the more he saw a pattern which had him convinced that these deaths were no accident. Politics, as always, could be a deadly venue. With the majority of the Blood Knights and city guards firmly under Kael's sway there really was no one to take this information to other than other known dissenters to warn then, to caution them to be wary. Elias had always had his suspicions that Zelanis might somehow be involved in the killings - assassinations really - after all he knew most of the important people in the city and had the largest force of rogues and assassins at his fingertips. But even more dangerous than these things was the fact that Zelanis was almost completely disillusioned by their peoples' fallout after the war. Yes, Elias knew him well, had once considered him a friend, almost a brother, but he was not the same man he had once been. He was dangerous, unscrupulous, and capable of most anything. And now, after what Tashin had said, Elias could not help but wonder to what uses Zelanis had put Tavian in all this. His heart sunk to think of it. Tavian, his student, the object of his affection... an assassin?

He hacked a potato in half rather savagely. He needed to talk to Zelanis. To get to the bottom of these things. If Zelanis truly was using his students to silence the opposition to Kael'thas then Elias could not stand by and let it happen, and he certainly could not associate himself with his "friend" any longer. Shoving the potatoes in the oven he slammed the oven door shut and tore off his apron. He needed to talk to Zelanis now. The potatoes would bake an hour, just enough time to get down to Murder Row and back without too lengthy of an exchange. He made sure to lock the big front doors to the estate, keenly aware that Tashin was sleeping alone inside and that his protection now fell squarely on his shoulders. His walk down to Murder Row was brisk, and no one gave him a second glance as he pushed his way through the rogue trainers to get to Zelanis' private room.

The rogue was stretched out shirtless on some cushions on the floor he seemed to have been dozing, but sat halfway up, brushing stray blond hair from his eyes as Elias entered, boots clacking on the polished floor. His daggers were still at his hips and he blinked at Elias a little blearily.

"Zelanis, we need to talk!" Elias blurted out.

"Nice to see you, too, old friend," the rogue said with a quirk at the corner of his mouth. "I hear you, too, are taking in strays now."

Elias paled a little bit and jabbed a finger towards Zelanis. "That's not what I came here to talk about, and you keep well away for Tashin!"

Zelanis blinked up at the paladin, pursing his lips and regarding him warily for a few long moments. "I wouldn't do anything to Tashin. And I thought it was the other one you were all gaga over, although with twins I suppose it's really six of one, half a dozen of the other, right?" he said with a smirk.

Elias curled his lip. "This has nothing to do with that. Tashin is ill and he doesn't need to be any part of whatever it is you are doing here. He's a good boy from a good family."

Zelanis rolled his eyes and started to get to his feet. "Gods Elias do you hear yourself? 'A good boy from a good family?' Is there even such a thing any more? Get your head out of your ass and out of the past. We're a civilization of vagrants, anyone who wants to pretend otherwise and play at being nobles is living in a dream world. You included."

Elias narrowed his eyes at the rogue and frowned angrily. "We're a civilization of vagrants only because unscrupulous people like you are shaping us. I have to know the truth, Zelanis, are you using your students to assassinate citizens who speak out against Prince Kael'thas?"

Zelanis raised an eyebrow. "Well that was cutting right through the bull shit, Elias. How uncharacteristically concise of you."

"Just answer me."

Zelanis shrugged. "I train rogues, Elias. Rogues do two things well. They steal and they kill. This street is called Murder Row for a reason."

"So you are," Elias growled.

Again that shrug. "I give them contracts which come to me from all over the city. Some may have come from Kael's supporters, some may have come from his dissenters. I don't ask questions I just filter the money and instructions to those who are capable."

"Like Tavian."

Zelanis could not help but smile now. "Tavian... Tavian... yes, like Tavian. But believe me, Tavian had no problems killing for me. He was quite good at it. And he would do pretty much anything I asked of him as long as it kept my attention away from his little sickling twin."

Elias snarled and actually slammed his fist into the wall. "How could you? He-"

"He what, Elias?! He what? Are you going to tell me that he, too, was a nice boy from a nice family? Tavian was anything but a nice boy. He -fucked- his brother, Elias. He killed for me and when he was done he came home and fucked his twin. Don't tell me he was a nice boy. Tavian had a gift and he liked employing it." Zelanis leered at the paladin, a hateful smirk on his face.

"You're wrong..."

"About what? That he fucked his twin, because I know he did that. And if he didn't like killing for me... well, then what he lacked in zeal he made up for in skill. But I know his type, Elias, we both do. The nice ones, the normal ones, the ones that get blood crazed, the ones that go crazy at the first taste of blood. We've met our share of them in the many wars we've fought together. I recognized the potential in Tavian the first moment I met him. Subtlety was never his thing, but I assure you assassination surely was. He liked the rush and he liked the abuse he got when a job went bad. Half the time I think he screwed up on purpose. Take my word for it, Elias old friend, the brothers Stormcaller are both headcases."

"Shut your mouth!" Elias screamed, leaping forward and shoving the rogue back hard enough to slam him into the far wall. "How dare you speak about them like that? You who has turned your back on the good of your people, who turns a blind eye to what is right and wrong! Haven't you paid any attention to what is happening in our world, Zelanis?! You would silence the voices of reason who speak against our mad Prince? Knowingly or otherwise this is inexcusable!"

Zelanis laughed out loud and then shoved Elias back with a snarl. "What does it matter, Elias, who we let be in power? None of this is going to last. This city, this 'reconstruction' is nothing but a gossamer web of conceit. Our people have learned nothing from their mistakes. Let them tear at each others' throats. They deserve it. Our war heroes are treated like trash. Those of us who sacrificed and fought at the fronts are mocked because we couldn't save the city against the Scourge and Legion. Mortals against the undead and demons... -demons- Elias. And where were our precious allies? They fought for the Kaldorei, -we- fought for the Kaldorei. We were at Mount Hyjal, Elias, we lost lives to save their damned homeland. Where were our allies when it was -our- homeland? They were the ones that brought it on us. Arthas and his insanity marched against -us- with our undead allies at his back. And where then were the Kaldorei? Rebudding their life tree, no time to save us. Where were our dwarven friends, our longest time allies? Hiding beneath the ground? Shivering in fear of the Scourge that came to end us? Our allies failed us and our people scorn us! So let the web fall, let it break, and burn to the ground around our ears again. I don't care, Elias! I do not care what happens to the Sindorei, but I will make every moment work to my advantage before we destroy ourselves again."

Elias stared, horrified at his old friend. He barely recognized his face it was so twisted with rage and disdain. Deep in his fel green eyes there was an unforgiving pain he had at times recognized in his own reflection, and it frightened him. "You're inciting chaos, and I won't be a part of it. Do not call on me ever again. I wash my hands of you, Zelanis. I have potatoes to take out of the oven."

Zelanis snickered then. "Elias Seregon, great battle healer of ages past, master of baking potatoes. What has happened to you, old friend?"

"I have accepted my life, because not doing so would make like you. And I fear what has happened to you far more than what has happened to me," he said with a note of bitter pity in his voice before he turned away.

"Do not turn you back on me, Elias! I know you better than you know yourself, and you know that I am right!" Zelanis cried after him.

Elias paused to look over his shoulder. "You are a sad excuse for the man you once were." With that he was on his way filled with a sick, heavy feeling. He had expected perhaps to discover a conspiracy that Zelanis was involved in, but to discover he was simply an agent of chaos... a willing advocate for the demise of their people was more than he felt he could handle. Some of what he had said rang painfully true through his almost insane tirade, but that was no excuse... no reason...

Climbing his front steps he unlocked the front door with a shaking hand. As he entered he caught sight of Tashin coming blearily down from the second floor. He was rubbing his eyes, and Elias felt an unprecedented amount of relief upon seeing him. So much so that he began to walk towards the young rogue with purposeful steps.

"Where'd you go?" Tashin asked, his voice muffled by sleep. Elias pulled Tashin into a sudden embrace, holding him tightly, still feeling that overwhelming sense of gratitude that the young elf was alright, not that he knew what he thought could have possibly happened to him. "Er..." Tashin stiffened slightly not expecting the hug, his face pressed into Elias' shoulder. He flushed for a moment and then tentatively returned the embrace. "Are you ok?" he asked against the paladin's tunic.

Elias chuckled softly and gave Tashin a good squeeze before letting him go. "Yes. I just went to see Zelanis. After what you told me I had some questions for him. I'm just glad that you're here with me instead of still with him."

Tashin flushed a bit more and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear as he nodded. "Me too. He gives me the creeps."

"As well he should." Elias took Tashin by the shoulders and smiled at him. "Dinner?"


	10. Machinations

((This took a long time to write. Not entirely sure I like how it turned out. But... bleh. ^_^;; Thank you again everyone who is following the story and commenting and leaving reviews. I have been trying to respond to them (I so didn't know I could for like the longest time XD), but haven't been able to respond to each one cause often I get them while I'm at work. But I really do appreciate them! ^_^ ))

Machinations

The study was quiet save for the occasional, irritated clicking of Zalmon's teeth and the soft flipping of pages. The quarterly financial logs for the House were disappointing, and giving him a headache. Not only that but he was fairly certain that the Oropher family had been scrimping on their House tithes. Not that they had much left to tithe. Of the four main families of House Dorthonion, the Orophers had lost the most in the invasion. Reinstating them to a position of financial security was of grave House importance to Zalmon, but he was beginning to find that doing so, and continuing his current policy of forgiveness over what they themselves –ought- to be putting back into the House was beginning to tax not only his own coffers, but his patience as well. They had three surviving sons, Light damn them, couldn't at least one of them rise to the occasion? Not, he supposed, that he had any room to talk. At the moment he was the only son of the Stormcaller family who had not completely muddled up his life. No matter. It would not be that way forever, he would see to that.

The curtain to the study fluttered aside, catching Zalmon's attention and he looked up to see Sorawen carrying a tray of tea and Stillwater Biscuits. "You've been in here all day," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. "What are you pouring over so diligently, husband dear?"

Zalmon stood to clear a space for the tray and sighed. "The financial logs for the House."

"Don't you have a House banker that takes care of that?" she asked conversationally, setting the tray down and leaning against the desk.

"No. He died in the invasion, and his son, who took over his firm is an oaf completely lacking in any creativity. I would not trust him with my money."

Sorawen poured tea, handing her husband a cup demurely, but the burning look in her eyes betrayed her keen intelligence. Zalmon smiled as he took the cup. "You are thinking something."

"Of course not, darling. We both know I do not think," she responded sweetly, pouring her own tea.

Zalmon grinned and chuckled at that. He had not married a stupid woman. Would not have married a stupid woman even if it had been advantageous. He valued his wife's keen mind if only because it had the uncanny effect of making him and the House look better when properly employed. He sat back down with a sigh. Breaking a biscuit delicately between her fingers she dipped half of it in her tea and took a bite, chewing methodically as she observed her husband. After a moment she pressed her finger to the bunched ridge between his eyes.

"You have two worry lines, and thus I deduct you have two things on your mind. Care to tell me the first?" she asked.

He made an unamused face, but went ahead and told her anyway. "I am not sure what to do with the Oropher branch of the House. At the moment they are like dead weight. I'm this close to cutting them off."

"To do so would lose you and the House considerable face, I imagine," she said lightly.

He gave her a cold look. "I am aware of that. But I am pouring more money into reestablishing them than they are. Their three sons are laze-abouts, thistleheads, and drunks, and the patriarch is a doddering old man who is content to sit in the shambles of their estate and suck away my money. I have enough financial obligations, most of them to your father, that I do not need to be siphoning off gold to a hopeless cause."

"Well where is their estate?"

"In the rebuilt section of the city. One of the few estates not to be completely decimated in the invasion; it's in worse shape now than most of the reconstruction," Zalmon grumbled.

"Sell it," Sorawen said simply.

Zalmon blinked at her. "What?"

"Sell their estate. On the rebuilt side of the city it will go for a good price. After all the new construction is the 'fashionable' place to live. Greedy House matriarchs will be snapping at the chance to re-establish there. As Head of the House it's well within your rights to liquidate any of their assets to pay off their debts to you. Reinstall them in one of the smaller House properties, or better yet buy one of the ruined estates on this side of the wall for a quarter the price you'll get for the Oropher estate, and install them there. See if the constant threat of marauding Wretched doesn't inspire a little gumption in their sons. Eventually I'm sure you will find some kind of placement for them in the city, and until you do they can work very hard at dragging themselves up from the muck. The House will still retain it's presence through the Lightweaver estate in the city proper and in time will probably be hailed as having breathed new life and opulence into this side of the city. Not to mention it will consolidate the House properties. A good long-term plan I think," she said with a small smile.

Zalmon stared at his wife for a long moment, his pale features unreadable and he scrutinized her. "I did a good job picking out a smart wife. You are a credit to me," he said shrewdly.

Sorawen laughed a little coldly. "I thought your father picked me out."

Zalmon smiled. "Well he picked out several girls of suitable breeding, but I picked you from the rest."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why was that?"

"You had the nicest figure."

"Ah." She sipped at her tea. "And what of the second problem that is troubling you?"

Zalmon grumbled, irritatedly marking his place in the ledger and sitting back in his chair gruffly. "Tashin's wallowing. In his current condition he's utterly useless to me. At least before this whole episode I was getting some good information out of him and his brother. Now he hides behind his misery and that self-righteous paladin and will barely talk to me."

"Aren't you paying that paladin to care for him?"

Zalmon made a tsking sound. "A detail. I think I underestimated his misplaced sense of ownership in the situation."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that Tashin remains useless to me and the House so long as he is encouraged by his new 'protector' to allow himself to wallow and pine for Tavian. He needs to see that there is life after his melodrama with his twin. I can't bring Tavian home until he does and is thoroughly moved on into pursuits of his own."

"Pursuits to be supplied by you, husband dear?"

"Naturally. Tashin has yet to realize his inner strength and potential. But he has a far shrewder mind than anyone gives him credit for. I can guarantee you, my darling, that what happened between the twins was not just some grave lapse in Tavian's judgment. I didn't realize it at first, but I am sure that Tashin knew exactly what he was doing to himself and his brother," Zalmon drawled.

Sorawen blinked, thinking of the sweet, sickly Tashin that she knew. She did not like to think of him being like the rest of his family. "Are you sure? That doesn't seem like Tashin."

Zalmon twisted his lips, sucking his teeth thoughtfully. "No, it doesn't, does it? But it makes sense. He's had a long time to observe the game. It really was just a matter of time before he started playing for himself. Tavian was just his first move. It's up to us to make sure the rest of his moves are advantageous to all involved."

"You mean to you and the House?" Sorawen took another sip of her tea, dunking a biscuit and nibbling on it daintily.

"And to Tashin's own welfare. Don't think me entirely heartless, dearest wife."

Her lip quirked at the corner. "So you need Tashin to cease his wallowing in order to take charge of his life so that you can position him to you liking?"

"Something like that."

"Well," she said slowly, "what is the best way to get over a lover?"

Zalmon eyed her carefully, pursing his lips together as if he expected this to be a trick question. "Find a new lover?" he asked slowly, a shrewd look slowly spreading over his face. Sorawen smiled and tilted her head to the side with a small nod. "Yes," Zalmon continued thoughtfully. "But it would have to be someone he feels connected to. I don't think Tashin's emotions can be very well motivated by lust. I could hire someone to play the part…"

"Why bother? Darling, the answer is staring you in the face. Someone he feels safe with, protected by, connected to. Someone who perhaps reminds him ever so slightly of Tavian. Someone who is already enmeshed in his wellbeing," she said, leading him with a slight twirl of her hand.

Zalmon narrowed his eyes and chewed the inside of his lip. "The paladin? Seregon? He wouldn't. I'm sure it's against some self-righteous, holier-than-thou tenant of his not to seduce heartbroken, sickly, patients of his who just happen to be the identical twin of one of his students."

Sorawen shrugged her narrow shoulders and stood up with a stretch. "I'm sure that you could find at least one or two points of persuasion. After all their House is all but dead. Seregon has no heir but his little sister, and she has absconded from the city. Truth be told the prospects for her are rather grim should something happen to him. She'd be vulnerable to being taken advantage of. That and a little political digging and I'm sure you of all people could find something to employ, husband dear." She left the tea tray on Zalmon's desk and headed towards the curtained doorway.

The warlock watched his wife leave, not responding, simply letting the possibilities sink in. His mind began to work quickly then. He pushed the ledger aside and penned a carefully worded note to Elias, bidding him visit the estate in a week's time. He folded it sharply and then went in search of a servant to give it to.

"Take this to Elias Seregon at his estate on the other side of the city. Make sure he receives it personally," Zalmon instructed a mousy looking servant girl and then returned to his study to pen another note informing the Oropher patriarch of the pending sale of his estate.

****

Elias narrowed his eyes and leaned back against the lip of the windowsill. His arms had been crossed over his broad chest for some time, in fact pretty much since Zalmon had opened his mouth. "Let me get this straight. You want me to seduce your little brother 'for his own good' and in return you are offering to help me how?" He narrowed his eyes. "And just to be clear there is almost no likelihood of me agreeing to any of this."

Zalmon sighed and touched his temples. "It's not so much seduction that I am suggesting, but courtship. Wooing, maybe that's the word. And don't pretend you've never thought about it. I saw how you ran to Tavian the night you resurrected Tashin. That's the great thing about twins: they're so similar in -so- many ways."

Elias remained with his arms crossed, lips pursed and silent. His gaze was stony, but he made no attempts at denial either. He had been growing closer to Tashin, it was true. He even had those moments when he looked at him and could see Tavian, did see Tavian. But to desire Tashin for anyone but himself simply was not right. He deserved more and so did Elias. And he certainly wasn't going to indulge in his wayward desires to satisfy Zalmon's need to meddle in the lives of his brothers. The two strong-willed men faced each other for some time, silently forceful. It was Zalmon who finally broke the silence.

"And what about your little sister? Vulnerable, all alone in the world. Getting into Light knows what kind of trouble out there. What will happen to her if and when you are no longer here to watch out for her wellfare? What is happening to her now, do you suppose? Wouldn't you like to see her come home?"

Elias' eyes narrowed even farther. "What do you know about Lyritta?"

Zalmon shrugged. "Nothing at the moment. But I, unlike you, Elias Seregon, have resources. I would be willing to employ them to find her and persuade her to come home. I would even be willing to ensure the protection of her status and livlihood should anything untoward ever happen to you. As young as she is as the last heir to the Seregon House she will be a political sitting duck to the jackals and hyenas in this city. You help my younger sibling and I'll help yours. We both get what we want: what's best for our families."

Elias swallowed and then dropped his gaze for the first time. He could not afford to go after Lyritta himself, or to hire someone to do it for him. He barely had the resources to maintain the estate. He looked Zalmon in the eyes again. "You seem fairly certain I'll meet some untimely demise before my sister's future is ensured."

Zalmon shrugged. "With your political views, my friend, I'm surprised you're not dead already. Those who wish to see a return to the old alliances are none too popular. And those who speak too freely against our Prince even less so. I could, I suppose, even try to offer you some modicum of protection, but in truth I really prefer to stay out of the messyness of politics. I'd rather observe their ebb and flow safely from a distance."

"So you can ally yourself with whichever side wins? Truly you are a noble man, Master Stormcaller," Elias sneered.

Zalmon shrugged. Attacks against his character were not particularly bothersome. "I do what is best for my House and the families in my care. At a time of such political unrest I don't really think it prudent to pick a side, especially when I don't truly care. I have no great love for Kael'thas. He may be doing what he thinks is best for our people, but in truth the reports have convinced he's gone quite insane. But on the other hand he is our Prince, and deserves our loyalty. He's sacrificed much and always respected the Council of Houses and its opinions. Besides at this time what is the alternative? Theron ruling in his place permanently? The man that led us into the arms of the Horde like beggars? I'll pass there, too. So for the time being, seeing as I have no true preference, I'll hold my tongue, bide my time, and advance my House as I see fit. You might have been wise to do the same, Master Seregon." He tilted his head to the side, arching one long black eyebrow. "But think about what I've said. Tashin needs a distraction from his festering heart. There is life without Tavian at his beck and call, and he needs to be shown that. I think you would be doing both him and yourself a great service by taking a little initiative. Who knows? You might both truly fall in love. I'd even give him to you with my blessing. And as a show of goodwill and friendship I'll begin looking for your sister with no commitment from you to do anything about Tashin."

Elias's nostrils flared slightly. Zalmon's laise faire attitude about the precarious position their society was in infuriated him. It was because people like Zalmon did not care that nothing was being done. Their people continued to be ruled by an ever maddening Prince from a world away and his lack-luster regent and his cronies. His words about Tashin angered his as well. Zalmon had no right to speak about either of them as if they were cattle easily lead into mating and "given" away. But then there was mention of Lyritta again, and the promise that she might be found and brought home made him hold his tongue. "That is very generous of you, Master Stormcaller," he said thickly, bowing stiffly at the waist.

"I know, Master Seregon." Zalmon bowed in return.

"Good day."

"Selama ashal'anore."

Once Elias was gone, Zalmon turned to his desk with a satisfied if slightly pensive tsking sound. When he looked up again Sorawen was standing in the doorway with tea. He moved aside to let her set it down.

"So?" she asked as she poured, a strand of auburn hair falling across her shoulder and into her face.

"It may take time, but I am fairly certain the seeds that have been planted will grow. I think they were already there. The man is only looking for an excuse that will allow his holy conscience to let him act on his impulses."

"And have you given him one, my darling husband?" she asked as she handed him a cup.

"Perhaps. More importantly I have made him a promise that puts him in my debt. Simply knowing this will most likely drive him to some action. Speaking of which, where is Nerris?" he asked and then took a sip, eyeing his wife's form over the rim of his cup.

She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. "Home, I think. Why?"

"Send for her, will you? I have need of her hunting skills."

****

It happened inside of a month.

What neither Zalmon's plotting or Elias' reluctance counted on was Tashin himself: that he would sense in himself the need to be fixed, and that he would act on it. He had come to trust Elias. Of all the people Tashin had tried to bullshit Elias was really the only one he couldn't. This fact about him that Tashin had once so detested, he now clung to, demanding to be seen. Because if those eyes that saw everything could keep on looking, then what Elias saw couldn't be that bad. When he first sensed the growing tension in the holy paladin Tashin had been surprised. His light-filled touches seemed to cautiously seek some small thing more from time to time. What surprised Tashin even more was that occasionally they left him slightly breathless. It was a condition he could have easily passed off as being a product of his petulant heart. But he knew his body better than that. So perhaps it was out of curiosity that he began to lean closer, that he sought opportunities to touch or brush against the other man, that he looked for that momentary spark in Elias' eyes and wondered if he was seeing Tavian or himself.

Elias had been out once again as he had been more and more frequently since his confrontation with Zelanis. Tashin knew that the two thing were somehow related and it frightened him to think of Elias still embroiled with the rogue leader. More it frightened him to think of the two of them in opposition to one another. Zelanis was a ruthless man. Something told Tashin that even his status as an old friend would not save Elias from Zelanis' wrath if the paladin tried to get in his way. Elias returned home that evening with a cut on his face and sour expression. Tashin had lit a fire in the study, an unnecessary precaution against a non-existent chill in the air, but he liked the flicker of the firelight and it made it easier to read. Perusing Elias' library had become Tashin's most recent activity of choice. He rarely left the Seregon estate for when he did the eyes of the passersby made it feel as if the high-walled streets were closing in about him. The very streets that had once felt like limitless freedom now felt like the prison he'd fled to get to them. And it was now that Tashin was beginning to realize that the prison was not a place he could escape from. It was inside of him.

As he read he lounged sideways in a high-backed chair, legs swinging boredly as he flipped through a dissertation on the nature of something called "Arcanistry". If he could keep his brain full of enough useless facts it seemed he did not have time or room to think too much on how he missed Tavian and how much he despised his own pitiful existence as a shut-in.

_... a sick mind, a caged mind. _Those had been Elias' words. But where was the cure? Where was the key? _In the tension of Elias' body. In the flicker of passionate eyes that do not belong to Tavian. _Yet all the boring facts in the world could not keep thoughts such as these from his mind. They clamored loudly. _Free yourself! Free yourself and your beloved twin... _

He heard the heavy front door slam, and startled, closing the book in his lap with a loud snap of paper and binding. He took several breaths as the familiar sound of Elias' agitated footfalls echoed through the estate, coming closer until the curtain was pulled back and the grumbling paladin entered the room. "What happened? You're bleeding..." Tashin said as he caught sight of the paladin looking up from the chair, the firelight flickering over his pale skin.

Elias startled and stared at him for a long moment before sighing and shaking his head. "You scared me. And it's nothing. Just some ruffians that saw fit to turn a public debate into a riot," he grumbled. "This can't continue. Our people are turning into degenerates."

Tashin watched the tense lines of Elias' body as he aggravatedly tried to loosen the ties of his cloak. He was worked up he was having little success. Setting the book aside on the floor the younger twin got to his feet, bare on the soft rug, and went to him. "Maybe you should speak. Say something," Tashin suggested, stepping closer and helping Elias out of his heavy cloak.

"What would I say? And who would listen? I'm nobody. Just another embittered throwback to our old ways," he said bitterly, allowing Tashin to be successful with the ties where he had not been.

"That's not true!" Tashin said. "You are a great man, Elias. A holy paladin and a member of the Blood Knights. You've been a hero to our people. Anyone who didn't listen to you would be a fool."

Elias snorted. "Well, after tonight I am convinced this entire city is full of fools."

Tashin smoothed his hands over Elias' shoulders, feeling the firm lines of the muscles beneath, distracted by their broadness. "I'm serious. You should speak at one of the public debates. Unmask Zelanis and his followers for what they are... inciters of chaos. People will listen."

Elias looked down into Tashin's face and sighed, shaking his head. He ran his thumb over the cut on his cheek, erasing it as if it had never been. "You give me too much credit, Tashin."

He felt the heat from Elias' body and closed his eyes. He realized the moment was now. _Act, fool, or remain a prisoner forever. _"No," the young twin said, stepping closer, his hands sliding back up Elias' shoulders to touch his neck. "You don't give yourself enough credit."

Elias saw the danger too late, and by the time he was starting to pull away Tashin had already leaned up to press their lips together. It was a chaste thing punctuated only by the profound silence that accompanied it. Elias' hands rose as if to settle, shaking, on Tashin's sides, but instead he began to push him back, breaking the kiss and shaking his head. "No, Tashin, don't."

The young rogue did not let go, fighting to keep himself pressed against the paladin. "Why not? You've done so much for me, and for my brother. This is the least I can do for you. It will be good... for both of us." He took Elias' face in his hands and looked up into his eyes. The paladin looked back. "I'm not asking you to love me, Elias. Vendel'o eranu." He touched Elias' face, eyes soft and pleading. "You can call me Tavian."

Elias' eyes went wide, his mouth falling slightly open. "Is that what you think I want?" he breathed. His hands stilled on Tashin's sides.

Tashin colored, a deep flush on his pale skin. "I know how you feel for him. It was obvious to everyone but Tavian who saw you two together. I resented it, but... now I feel like maybe it could make us close... has already made us close. The loss of him is the greatest thing that we share. And if you don't want him, what do you want? Just tell me."

Elias hesitated, looking down into those achingly familiar eyes. They were his, but they were not his. The way Tashin was pressed against him made him remember the last time he saw Tavian with dizzying clarity. He closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. "I could want you," he whispered back.

Tashin made a hollow chuckling sound. "Don't lie to me," he murmured, and then brought their lips together again, this time ensuring that the kiss was anything but chaste. It felt strange at first to kiss someone who did not feel intimately familiar. Elias was bigger than he, and thus bigger than Tavian. The small patch of hair on the paladin's chin tickled and scratched. His body felt strange, but it was exciting.

So many other things he found were strange and exciting about Elias. The way his hands felt on Tashin's body, larger and rougher than Tavian's or his own. The way they stripped him of his clothes and pushed him to the floor. The way they explored him thoroughly, inside and out, before removing Elias' own clothes. And then there was the other man's body. He was broad and more starkly muscled than Tavian, his skin was darker, duskier, contrasting with Tashin's own pale flesh even more so than his twin's had. Even Elias' erection was shaped differently he realized when he finally dared to look. It was larger and slightly longer, darker… different. It made Tashin blush to see it, to feel it press against him and then into him, filling him in a way that was foreign and frightening, but delicious and exciting at the same time. He felt completely out of control as his fingers clutched at Elias' arms, his back arching sharply with each press and thrust of that foreign body. This difference… this separateness… it was what normal lovers felt every day, what Tavian had felt with many lovers other than his twin. It made Tashin dizzy, his pulse racing. Maybe he would simply die like this; his heart stopped as Elias coupled with him. His slender legs wrapped around the paladin's hips, ensuring the deep angle of his penetration. He had done this many times for his beloved twin…

He didn't know when it began, but by the time it was over and Elias was filling him with thick strands of his seed and Tashin writhed and trembled in his own almost involuntary orgasm the young rogue was in tears. They came hot and fast with trembling, gulped breathes as he fell back limply to the floor held in the post-coital embrace of his lover who he did not love, but whose body and embrace might finally unlock the cage.

It was over, ruined, thankfully. He could no longer ever be Tavian's and Tavian's alone. Could probably never be Tavian's again at all. The relief was overwhelming, but the grief was even more so and it wracked him for long hours. Even as they coupled again and then again with a fierce conviction, he knew that it wracked both of them.

For the past two months little had changed in Tavian's life except the now-constant presence of Tamarack. Shortly after he and Kiril had rekindled their flame the other druids, along with the woman Tavian came to understand was Tamarack's niece, left the goblin town to head back to Kalimdor. Apparently they had gotten whatever it was they had come to the Vale to find. None of them had tried to stop him from staying, though they all seemed curious, and perhaps a few perturbed by his reasons for not going back with them. Amarra, the niece, was the only who actually seemed upset. From his perch on the crates Tavian had been able to watch the whole scene, and although he didn't understand Darnassian, he understood the content of the argument very well. In the end the other druids with Amarra in tow had left and Tamarack had remained.

Tavian had gotten his own room at the inn, finding it both awkward and annoying to be around the other two in such close quarters. Not that he wanted to be alone all the time either. Quite the contrary, because when he was alone his mind would always revert to thoughts of home and Tashin and even Elias. And if he thought on these things too long or too hard he was almost always filled with a deep depression that would not go away until Kiril and Tam ousted him from his ennui and drug him through the jungle. Tamarack knew an amazing amount about the history of the Vale and the troll ruins. In fact he knew a surprising amount about troll culture and history in general. Tavian had never even considered that there might be different kinds of trolls with different beliefs and allegiances. Though he supposed it made sense. The one thing Tavian could not believe was the suggestion Tamarack made that all elves may have once come from ancient troll progenitors. Sure trolls had long, pointy ears, but that was about where the similarities stopped, Tavian was quick to point out.

All of which Kiril translated, though after some time Tavian found himself having strange conversations with the druid in a back and forth of their languages that the rogue found strangely comprehensible, though not in terms of language, but more absolute meaning. Tamarack claimed it was because they had shared the closeness of Tavian's near-death at the dock in Ratchet. Absolute communication was the result of having a well-balanced alignment between their spirits. As Kiril had translated this he had rolled his eyes, but Tavian found it intriguing. At times he would even catch himself responding to the druid in Darnassian although he would never have any idea what he had said when he tried to recall, and when he tried to do it willfully he found it impossible to even conjure up a single Darnassian phrase beyond "dur".

Tavian found that he liked the druid, although he often wondered if all Kaldorei were as strange and scattered as he was. If they all had the same quirky tendencies towards random action, and if so he wondered how anything ever got done or truly finished in their culture. He also found that he was not a fan of Tamarack's wildkin form, something he and Kiril commiserated on. In fact Kiril had seemed shocked and almost appalled the first time Tamarack had shifted into the form of the strange, antlered, chubby bird-thing that did little but make hooting sounds and waddle through the forest. Tam often seemed to forget that he was even in a form other than his own when he was a wildkin, and often frightened and even came close to harming the Sindorei cousins with his increased strength and size.

Another thing that Tavian found himself liking about Tamarack was that he was deceptively playful. He teased and joked with Kiril in subtle ways that both amused and plainly irritated the priest. But it was good to see. Kiril had in the past several years become rather serious and overly wise in his priesthood. And even though he often maintained his more jovial self with Tavian, it was nice to see him more relaxed in general.

Thus the two months in Stranglethorn stretched by in a mixture of emotions and feelings as varied as the jungle weather. Days of sweltering sunshine would give way to torrential rains that lasted days on end. Warm rain that Tavian found oddly irresistible. He got more than one lecture about staying out and getting soaked. He was never want for something to do. The jungle and ocean themselves provided the young rogue with a multitude of distractions and intrigues. The comings and goings of Booty Bay's residents and visitors supplied even more when he was sick of the sticky forests. And when Kiril and Tamarack were alone in their room, Tavian sought out the company of others in the inn tavern. Easy to make, one-shot friends he thought of them as. A few drinks and conversation was easy. Everybody liked a good joke and sharp wit, and Tavian was quick with both when he had a little alcohol in him. And although he got lots of opportunities to not spend the night alone, he always did. Not to say that he was a saint, but the touches and kisses of others did little but distract him momentarily and leave him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

But the peaceful regularity of life in Booty Bay could not last forever. And after those two months Tamarack received a letter that summoned him back to Kalimdor in service of the Cenarion Circle. His attentions were needed in Feathermoon Stronghold and Silithus, both places Tavian knew nothing about and which Kiril flat-out refused to go to. The stronghold was not an option, being a Kaldorei village, and Silithus, he said, was covered in bugs. After quite a bit of back and forth, some yelling on Kiril's part and mostly helpless shrugging on Tamarack's, Tavian was informed that he and Kiril would be moving to Gadgetzan, another goblin town that was positioned between Tamarack's two posts.

"At least I'll be able to see you in transit," the priest grumbled to the druid.

"Thero'shan, I'm sorry, but I do still have duties. I always will. But I will have time to be with you. You are more important to me than anything," Tamarack replied, enfolding the riled priest in an embrace that almost immediately deflated him. Tavian understood Kiril's anger. He feared being forsaken again.

So it was that Tavian found himself crossing the Great Sea for the second time in his life. This time, however, he actually remembered the trip, and discovered he really did not like boats. On the previous crossing he had been too distraught to feel any discomfort other than the breaking of his heart, but this time he became intimately familiar with a gap in the railing of the top deck. He spent most of his time there trying not to vomit and failing rather miserably.

From Ratchet they traveled together as far as the fork in the road in Thousand Needles, where Tamarack had to bid them farewell and continued northwest to Feathermoon Stronghold alone while the cousins went south through the Salt Flats and on to Gadgetzan in the Tanaris desert. Kiril proved to be a morose traveling companion for the last leg of the journey, which took them by the Mirage Raceways. Tavian had never seen anything like it. The insane buzz and roar of the racers as they sped by sending buzzards and basilisks scattering into the baked salt dunes was possibly the most exciting thing Tavian had ever seen. If Kiril had let him he would have stopped to explore further, but the glare he got from his red-headed cousin at the mention of it told Tavian it was best to humor him and continue on to the goblin settlement. But he made a mental note to come back and explore on his own if need be.

The desert sun was high and hot, beating down on Tavian's black head with a ferocity that had him almost instantly overheated, when they finally arrived at Gadgetzan. The funny, walled town made the rogue's mouth hang open as they entered the pistoning, tinkered gates. Dirty, hot, and dry where Booty Bay had been dirty, hot, and wet the town felt eerily familiar for the change in geography. The inn was slightly less hospitable with drifts of dirty sand in the corners and often in the food and drink as well. Although the majority of the "rooms" were really only hammocks strung along the tavern walls, there were a few private rooms set apart from the main building for "long term" guests.

It was in one of these rooms that Tavian unpacked, took a deep breath, and prepared to distract himself with the wonders of yet another new part of the world.


	11. Degeneration

((Comment: I know, I know. It's been over a year since I've updated this story. It's terrible of me, really. I'm a bad person and a slacker of an author. But it's been a really long and not very good year for me.

I did get a BIT distracted with the writing and conception of _Middle Distance_ and it's characters (which can be found at my y!gallery account which is listed as my homepage), but it was what my muses dictated I concentrate on, and as most of you (being the creative and artistic types) know there is generally no arguing with one's muses.

But after a year and some months I have rallied and I hope I have gotten over my immense writer's block on this. I think I have. I achieved more in this chapter that I thought I would. I'm pleased. I hope anyone who is of the mind to continue following this is also pleased.))

Degeneration 

In the months that followed the Stormcaller brothers learned many things from unexpected sources.

From the empty, baking sands of southern Kalimdor Tavian learned that heat stroke set in a lot fast than one would ever expect, that having a pretty face and a brain nine times out of ten meant you could get whatever you wanted from whoever you wanted to get it from, that at the bottom of a bottle of volatile rum there was a place where regret and love no longer existed, and that you should never fuck with a goblin's money.

From his life as the lover of a man that he neither loved nor who loved him back Tashin learned that there was something to be said for the simplicity of contentment, that evil was not always something that dwelled far from home, and that self-actualization was as painful and sad as it was freeing.

From his careful manipulations Zalmon leaned that his wife was someone on whom he could truly rely, that he was surprisingly comforted by this fact, and that patience always, always paid off.

*****

Tavian had not been looking for a friend when he started to visit the Mirage Raceway leaving Kiril to mope about Gadgetzan by himself, and he certainly had not expected to find one in the smooth-talking troll that had swindled him out of about five gold on his very first race. But over the past month or so that seemed to be what the Darkspear hunter, Vo'jya, had become. Although, Tavian supposed real friends were supposed to actually know something about one another and not just sit around baking their brains in the hot sun and spending their money together.

"You know wha' we should do, mon?" Vo'jya said with a calculating nod, his dark blue eyes sweeping the unusually large number or raceway patrons that day.

"Hm?" Tavian grunted, fanning himself.

"We bot' know dis nex' race a sure t'ing gwonna be won by da goblin's righ'?"

Tavian nodded. "The gnomes blew the engine on that racer yesterday. No way it's properly fixed today. We all know it takes gnomes at least three times to get anything right."

"I bet'chu dat you an' I are near da only ones here dat know dat, mon."

Tavian's fel-green eyes slid slowly over to focus on the back of Vo'jya's head, one long, black eyebrow arching slightly. "You're point being?"

"You know how you got dat real pretteh, trust-wordy face?" the troll tipped his head back to look at Tavian who was seated above him on the bleacher benches. He waggled his eyebrows. Tavian kept his eyebrow arched. "I bet'chu could get mos' o' dese nice people tah bet on da gnomes, an' get da odds in our favah."

"You mean like, con them?" Tavian asked, a little taken aback, but he could not help the thoughtful way in which the tip of his tongue pressed against his upper front teeth.

Vo'jya shrugged. "I mean more like... ahtful manipulation o' da trut'.

"So... you want me to con them."

"No, mon, I want -us- to con dem. Aftah all... what does a stupid troll know abou' innyt'ing?"

Tavian shook his head and chuckled. "I don't know, but I'm beginning to think that 'stupid trolls' know more about some things than anyone else."

Vo'jya chuckled at that and shrugged, making the ugly bird on his shoulder stir and squawk. "Trolls like games, dat's all. An' dis troll likes money -and- games."

Tavian leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. "So what do you propose we do?"

Vo'jya grinned.

What Vo'jya proposed they do was so simple that it really wasn't that much of a con to begin with. All they had to do was get into an argument somewhere that was conspicuous enough to draw the attention of most of the patrons. Down between the announcement tower and the bleachers was probably a good spot. Tavian would argue for the gnomes, Vo'jya would argue for the goblins. All Tavian had to do was look pretty and trust worthy and sound like he knew what he was talking about, something that came naturally to him. And all Vo'jya had to do was look, well, like a big dumb troll. Which, although did not come particularly naturally to him, was easy enough to fake. And thus their ridiculously easy and lucrative ploy was born. The most beautiful part of the whole thing was that even after the majority of the patrons lost their bets they were none the wiser, because Tavian was a very convincing crier and Vo'jya was a very convincing gloater.

So Tavian spent his time learning the arts of gambling and grifting from a troll who was a natural at both. They never talked about their reasons for being at the raceway in a desert at the butt-end of the world, but Tavian got the sense that Vo'jya appreciated the distraction from his thoughts that teaching gave him as much as Tavian appreciated the distraction of learning.

When he wasn't at the Mirage Raceway with Vo'jya Tavian explored the Tanaris Desert sometimes with Kiril in tow, although more often not. He found the ruins there to be fascinating, and learned that they were of troll origin. Vo'jya informed him later that the tribe of trolls who lived in Tanaris, the Sandfury, were no longer related to any of the larger tribes, but were considered a race of trolls in and of themselves. Sandtrolls they were called, though Vo'jya wouldn't say more about it.

"Troll cultah an' historeh en't exactleh a subject on which I feel I got iny aut'oriteh ta speak, mon. Lots'a voodoo an' sacrifices. Jus' let yo' mind run wild. Whatevah ya come up wit' probableh en't gwonna be dat far from da trut'."

Tavian ran errands for the goblins, going back and forth between Gadgetzan and Steemwheedle port,. He raided pirates and killed bandits, scoured the dunes for relics, and even killed some disgusting bugs. All the while he honed his skills as an assassin, letting the drive for blood take him over.

When he wasn't killing his own people he didn't have to feel guilty. Even when he liked it, he didn't feel guilty. Sometimes he thought about Tashin. Other times he thought about Elias. Sometimes when his blades were sinking in soft flesh or slicing open the throat of an opponent or glancing off bone he thought about Zalmon or Zelanis.

When he didn't want to think about these things anymore he went back to Gadgetzan and drank and gambled and thought about nothing.

*****

"I got a letter today," Sorawen's clear voice said as she pushed open the dungeon door to Zalmon's study. "From Nerris." She walked slowly across the rather musty room, sliding the tea tray onto one of the large slab tables covered in bubbling apparati. She gestured to the tray where a letter was propped between the plate of Stillwater Biscuits and the tea pot. "It's there for you to read."

Zalmon looked up from what he was doing, silencing a squealing imp with a snap of his long, pale fingers. It seemed to still writhe in pain inside its cage, but its voice was gone. His fel green eyes glowed as he raised one long, sculpted eyebrow, eyeing his wife and the tea tray. "Can't you simple tell me what it says? And do you really think it's healthy for me to eat down here?"

Sorawen poured the tea slowly. She smiled a little without looking up. "Perhaps that's why I like to bring it to you down here, darling husband." She handed him the tea cup with a demure bat of her eyes. "Biscuit?"

Zalmon took the tea cup, sighing softly through his nose. "The letter?"

Sorawen began to pour herself a cup of tea. "It's right there."

He sighed in exasperation and reached for it, flipping the envelope open and pulling out the short letter, reading it quickly. Zalmon chuckled. "Your sister is bizarre."

The pretty mage smiled over the rim of her tea cup, leaning against the table. "I thought you would enjoy that. But at least she's located the girl. Now what?"

"Now she brings Seregon's sister home. Why else would I bother sending her to find the brat?" he snorted into his cup and took a swallow.

Sorawen regarded her husband for a moment and then shrugged her slender shoulders. "You know that Nerris isn't exactly tactful. If you tell her to bring the Seregon girl home she -will- bring her home regardless of the how unpleasant it might be in order for her to do so."

Zalmon looked at her blankly. "And?"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes a little. "Just make sure you add the caveat 'alive' when you send word to Nerris to bring her home. 'Bring her home _alive_.'"

"How about this, darling, I'll let you write the letter. You can even send it all by yourself."

It was Sorawen's turn to arch an eyebrow. "Can I sit at your desk and use your paper?" he voice was teasing and incredulous as the same time.

Zalmon snorted again and reached across the table to take her chin between his thumb and index finger. "Surprisingly you have proven yourself to be not only competent, but also shrewd. You are quickly becoming indispensable to me, my dearest. And not just in my bed." He smiled.

Sorawen laughed at that and stepped back from the table, taking a biscuit and turning towards the door. "Well then I shall take my tea to your study and write a letter to my sister." She paused at the door and turned around again. "Oh. I was going to ask. How has the business with the Oropher estate gone?"

Zalmon blinked and then smirked slowly. "Quite well, actually. The estate has sold to a family to which I do not entirely object."

"Very good," she said, voice lilting a little as she turned away.

Within a day the letter was dispatched to Nerris, and within two weeks both she and Lyritta Seragon were back within the walls of Silvermoon. Unsure exactly what to do with her Nerris brought Lyritta to the Stormcaller estate where they now waited together in the sitting room as one of the servants went to fetch Zalmon from his study.

Nerris Stillwater was a Ranger of Silvermoon with hair the same lovely auburn color as her older sister's. She had always been a rather stranger woman. Everyone in her family knew it, even the Rangers knew it. It was as if she had been born with no sensitivity to the grotesque and bizarre.

As a very young girl Nerris could often be found in the garden inspecting and even dissecting the bodies of small animals she had either found dead or killed herself. She was never disturbed or disgusted by the sight of decay or decomposition. She seemed to find it fascinating. So, too, did she have a lack of sensitivity for the suffering of others. It was not that she was particularly cruel, or that she was sadistic, as she did not take pleasure from harming others or inflicting pain, she simply didn't mind doing so. It made her a very effective interrogator and the perfect candidate to act as a liaison between the Sin'dorei and their new Forsaken allies.

Nerris had recently spent several months living amongst the undead of Lordaeron in Undercity, learning from them while in the service of Lady Sylvanas. Her duties now were generally split between Silvermoon and the Undercity, but no request directly from the head her sister's house was to be ignored. Chasing down the Seregon girl had been a fairly simple and even enjoyable diversion for her usual duties.

Now she sat on one of the large couches in the sitting room of the Stormcaller estate, her back ramrod straight, her short, bobbed hair curling innocuously at her jaw line. She stared stonily at Lyritta who pouted back at her. Nerris' gaze was without malice, in fact it was without any emotion at all. Flat was a good word to describe Nerris.

"You could at least have taken me home," Lyritta snapped, her green eyes blazing. She stared hatefully at the Ranger.

"I was not instructed to take you to your brother. Bringing you to Zalmon made the most sense. You have no reason to complain, I've removed your restraints," Nerris answered, her voice soft and almost sing-song.

Lyritta snarled a little at that, reaching to rub her wrists. Once Nerris had caught her and separated her from her companions in Orgrimmar she had bound her hands and feet together before tossing her over the back of her hawk strider. "I'm a Blood Knight! You have no right to treat me like this!" she hissed petulantly.

Nerris' gaze remained impassive. "You are not a Blood Knight. You are a runaway. I was hired to return you to your home and your betters. You resisted. Your treatment is subsequently the direct result of your actions."

Lyritta glared. She had enjoyed her life away from Silvermoon, away from her brother's constant watchful eye, from his coddling and babying. Even if she could not formally train with the Blood Knights outside of the city she had found companions and plenty of others who were willing to train her for a price. Allowed for the first time to fight for herself, to be hurt and scarred she had become a rather honed fighter able to heft a sword or polearm at least her own height with both hands. Perhaps she could not match the skill of the trained city guard or the Blood Knights, but she was far from the sapling of a girl she had been when she'd left the city nearly half a year ago.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but at that moment the curtain that led into the sitting area opened and Zalmon let himself in. Lyritta's eyes flicked up to him and she scowled, remembering things that Tashin and Tavian had told her about their elder brother, how he had come once in a while to skulk around the rouge's guild.

"What a sour face," Zalmon said airily. "I'd think you'd look happier with the prospect of being reunited with your brother so close at hand. He's been very worried about you, you know. He hardly dared to be truly hopeful when I told him I might be able to fetch you home."

She balked a little at that, feeling a pang of guilt go straight to her heart at the thought of the pain and worry she must have caused Elias. She had not even written him. She lowered her eyes a little, looking both petulant and angry, trying to hide her sense of shame. "I'm a grown woman," she grumbled. "I don't need to be 'fetched' by anyone to go anywhere."

Zalmon raised an eyebrow. "As I recall you were still in training and under contract to the Blood Knights, and your brother's responsibility when you decided to abscond from the city. Imagine what shame you have brought to him and your House. Shabby as it may have become."

She flinched again. She and Elias were the only living members of House Seregon after the invasion of the Legion and the Scourge. Lyritta scowled again. "Fine! If you brought me home for my brother then let me go home to him. I don't want to sit in your creepy house. Where are Tavian and Tashin anyway?"

Zalmon dismissed her questions with a wave of his hand. "Not your concern. And I assure you that your brother is on his way. Would you care for some tea and biscuits in the mean time?"

"No."

"Nerris?"

The auburn haired Ranger turned her attention from Lyritta to Zalmon for the first time since he entered. Her fel-green eyes seemed to flicker a little. "No, thank you brother-in-law."

Zalmon bowed then to the both of them, his long curtain of black hair falling over his shoulder as he did so and then turned on his heels and left. The two Sin'dorei women were left to stare at each other in stony silence.

About half an hour later Elias arrived with Tashin following on his heels. Neither looked particularly happy to have been summoned to the Stormcaller estate, especially when no reason was given for the summons. They were greeted at the front door and asked to wait in the foyer as a servant once again went to fetch Zalmon.

"Master Seregon," Zalmon's voice carried down the ramp that led to the second floor as he descended, "I see you are looking a little worse for wear these days. Your 'polite' debates getting a little rowdy?"

Elias looked up as Zalmon descended. Indeed there was a healing cut on one cheek and a bruise along his jaw, things he could easily have corrected with his healing powers, but chose to let heal on their own. "Sadly, Master Stormcaller, wisdom and truth are not always appreciated even when spoken to men presumed to be of a level head."

"I did tell you to be careful, didn't I?" Zalmon drawled as he pulled himself up at the base of the ramp.

Elias regarded him stonily. "You did. You'll have to forgive me for being unable to heed your warning. You know that I am simply unable to stand by as our people destroy themselves with avarice and degradation. Unlike some men with more self control." He narrowed his eyes.

Tashin touched Elias' elbow gently. "Elias, don't bait him," he said softly.

Zalmon's attention shifted then to Tashin and he smiled thinly. "You look moderately well, little brother. How are you feeling? Stronger, I hope. Getting over your wallowing for Tavian?"

Tashin stiffened and pursed his lips. "Little by little, I suppose."

Zalmon smiled a little at that and nodded. "That's good. I have a surprise for the both of you that I think you will be rather appreciative of."

"Do tell," Elias said and followed Zalmon as he motioned them through the curtain and into the sitting room. He froze almost immediately as his eyes fell upon the couch. The healer's eyes went wide and he gasped. "Lyritta!"

The young paladin started at the sound of her brother's voice and turned her attention towards him. The sight of him filled her with a strong, unexpected emotion of guilt and happiness and even before she was on her feet she was blubbering and reaching for him. "Elias!"

Breathless in his surprise the elder Seregon stepped to her in a couple long strides, drawing her smaller body into his arms and against his chest. "Lyritta… I can't believe… you're home." He leaned down to press his cheek against her head, holding her as she cried. "Are you alright? Where have you been? Why are you crying?"

She nodded against his chest with a soft sob. "I-I'm fine. I… I'm sorry I made you worry, brother, I just…" she sobbed softly, "I just wanted to… to show you I could be grown up and to have my own life, and… and I d-did… I d-didn't m-mean to make you s-sad…"

Elias made a soft choking sound and tightened his arms around her. "We'll talk about all of it later, Ritta. For now I am just glad that you are home."

As the two red-headed siblings embraced Tashin looked on with wide eyes. He had not seen Lyritta since the night she had disappeared from Silvermoon. Until that moment he had not realized how much he had missed her, had missed just having a friend he could confide in, someone else who had known Tavian, who he could talk to about him and everything that had happened. Though he supposed he couldn't really tell Lyritta that he was her brother's lover now. Even if she wouldn't mind he felt deep down that their relationship was somehow wrong.

Feeling self conscious watching them Tashin averted his eyes and noticed Zalmon watching him. He raised his eyes to look at him squarely, and was momentarily caught off guard by the affection and concern he saw reflected in his elder brother's eyes. He had not seen it's like for a long time. It made him feel strange.

Zalmon looked down at his feet for a moment and when he raised his eyes again the look was gone. He nodded ever so slightly and then reached out to put a hand on Elias' shoulder. "I told you that I can be a helpful and generous ally, Master Seregon. You are free to take your sister home."

Elias was pulled from the private reunion by Zalmon's touch and words. The look he gave Zalmon was both incredulous and wondering. When the master of House Dorthonion had mentioned finding his sister and bringing her home he had not dared to hope that he actually could do such a thing, and more that he actually would. He had agreed to nothing even though Zalmon's wishes had come true on their own. He had taken Tashin to his bed, had become his lover despite his better judgment and the fact that his heart, that both their hearts, belonged to Tavian.

They stared at each other for a long moment, and Elias remained torn between gratitude and contempt. Zalmon just stared back at him coolly, one perfect eyebrow slightly raised.

"I owe you my thanks, Master Stormcaller," Elias ground out grudgingly.

Zalmon smiled a little. "It's nice to have one's efforts appreciated. You're welcome. Just remember to honor those who do you favors."

Elias nodded slowly and then led Lyritta out, keeping his arm around her shoulders. She cast Tashin a thin smile which he returned, though he furrowed his brows, wondering what Lyritta's return would mean for him. Would Elias wish to keep him as his lover now that his sister was back? Was he welcome to return with him to his home? He hesitated and hung back, watching them leave the sitting room and then looking over at Zalmon. He narrowed his eyes.

"What are you plotting, Zalmon?" he asked when Elias and Lyritta were out of earshot. He either hadn't noticed or didn't care that Nerris was still sitting ramrod straight on one of the couches.

"I have to be plotting something? Elias has done me quite a few favors. He's taken great care of you now that you've decided you don't need my care. I can't do a favor in good faith?"

Tashin snorted softly. "Even I have come to realize that you never do a favor that won't pay off for you in the end, brother. You're not the only one who's learned how to manipulate others."

Zalmon laughed at that and stepped closer to the younger twin, grinning slyly as he patted his cheek. "No, I'm not. You've become quite the little prodigy. I never gave you enough credit before, Tashin, no one has, not even yourself, and certainly not Tavian. You're quite sly." He leaned closer to snicker beside the young rogue's ear. "But you're starting to realize your potential. Exciting isn't it?" He patted Tashin's cheek again and then slipped by him with a low chuckle.

Tashin watched him uncertainly for a moment and then turned toward Nerris, blinking at her. She turned her head to blink back, and for a moment they simply stared at each other.

"Tashin, come! We're going home," Elias' voice echoed in from the foyer.

Tashin jumped and spun around to look out towards the entry, startled by Elias' voice. When he glanced back at Nerris she was already staring back off into space again.

Later that evening Tashin was curled into his customary spot in the high backed chair before the fire of Elias' study. Both of the Seregon siblings had been scarce since they returned. He assumed that they were catching up, or that Elias was lecturing Lyritta, or both. Now the sun was sinking and he heard Elias leave, noting with an irritated flick on one ear that he did not bother to come tell him he was going out. But Tashin knew he was going to one of the public debates or to meet with other dissenters of Kael'thas. He found Elias' political life almost as trivial and pointless as Zalmon, though he would never say as much.

His ear flicked again when he heard the thick curtain to the hallway pull aside and rustle shut again.

"Tashin, are you in here?"

"In the chair."

Lyritta hesitated by the curtain and then bounced over to sit before the fire and look up at him. "It's so funny that you live here now!" When Tashin didn't respond right away she tilted her head to one side. "I guess a lot of things have changed."

"Yes, I suppose they have." Tashin closed the book in his lap and straightened up a little. "Have you been talking to Elias this whole time?" He wondered how much the paladin had told her about their relationship and what had happened between Tavian and him.

She nodded slowly. "At first it was mostly him yelling at me, just like always." She looked pouty for a moment and crossed her arms across her chest. "Finally I told him that if he expected me to stay this time he'd better quit treating me like a child. I've taken perfectly good care of myself all this time after all! I even continued my training and was just about to go to the Outland! He didn't really know what to say to that other than to look grumpy, but he stopped yelling anyway."

Tashin balked a little at that. "You were going to go to the Outland? Why?"

Lyritta looked up at him excitedly. "Because I could! I've really grown up quite a lot, and I've gotten pretty good at fighting. I made some pretty good friends and companions. We were all going to go together…" she twisted her lips to one side at that and sighed. "I don't imagine I'll be gding that anytime soon, though. I should write them a letter to let them know I'm alive, and not just kidnapped by that crazy Ranger."

Tashin leaned forward a little bit. "So… you're going to stay then?"

Lyritta shrugged and sighed again, leaning back on her hands. He could see that she did look more grown up, or at least more developed. She wasn't just a twiggy girl anymore. She had defined, strong-looking arms and her torso had filled out. He imagined that she probably didn't look quite as ridiculous as she once had wielding a two-handed sword. "I might as well, I guess. I have to admit that I've been somewhat homesick. Elias –is- my only family in the whole world, and there's no other place I've been that's quite like Silvermoon. I suppose, like Elias says, I should at least finish my training completely before striking out again, or go into official service of the city." She twisted her lips again and looked down at her knees. "I was getting rather tired of sleeping in stinky hammocks and inns made for orcs."

Tashin chuckled a little at that, imagining Lyritta in a hammock surrounded by grunting, sweaty orcs. "Well, to be honest, it would be nice to have you here," he smiled genuinely. "It would be nice to have one friend other than your brother around."

Lyritta looked up at that and grinned, her pixie-like face taking on a bit of ferocity. "Elias said you haven't been training, so now that I'm back I'll take you out with me and kick your butt! Every day we can train and spar."

Tashin laughed softly at that and shook his head. "I don't know, Lyr, I'm supposed to be training to be a rogue, not a paladin."

"So what?!" she exclaimed. "What does that matter? Fighting is fighting. You already know all the basics, right? So even if you aren't training with Zelanis or the other rogues you can only get better, right?"

He looked skeptical. "Well, I suppose. I don't know, I'm not always that well, you know."

Lyritta rolled her eyes. "That old excuse. What's the worst that can happen? I –am- a paladin, so if you start dying I'll just save you." She grinned again.

Tashin chuckled softly at that. "I guess that's some comfort. I'll think about it."

"You don't have a choice," she said a little bossily.

Tashin sighed and looked down into his lap. A silence fell between them for a time, both of them thinking and enjoying the warmth of the fireplace. After a time Tashin asked quietly, "I don't suppose you saw or heard anything of Tavian while you were out in the world?"

Lyritta looked at him, feeling sad for Tashin, knowing how he must miss his twin. "No. No I didn't, but then I wasn't looking for him either. I didn't even know he'd left Silvermoon… Do you think he'll come home soon?"

Tashin looked into his lap, his shoulder slumping. "No. I don't think so. He left because he thought he was making me sick, and Zalmon ordered him to. Sometimes I don't think he'll ever come back."

Lyritta looked up at him sympathetically and then suddenly rose to her knees, walking on them to the chair so that she could reach up and wrap her arms around Tashin's shoulders and neck in a tight embrace. The young rogue was surprised by this, unused to feel anyone's embrace but Elias' any longer. It was strange that they felt somehow similar, strong, warm, and compassionate. He blinked against Lyritta's shoulder and then tentatively returned her embrace.

"I'm sure he'll come back someday, Tash," she said soothingly. "When you're better and Zalmon isn't angry any more, I'm sure he will. He's a very good brother. He loves you a lot, and I'm sure he misses you." She sat back a little then to look into his eyes and grin. "Even more than I missed you."

Tashin flushed a little at her words. "You missed me?" he scoffed a little.

"Of course! We're friends! You understood me and how I felt about Elias better than anyone. I wanted you to come with me, remember?"

Tashin grinned back at her then. "I do. I could actually do it now."

Lyritta giggled. "Too bad I've no intention of leaving again for a while."

Tashin smiled at that and they sat together chatting and catching up. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed her company, her enthusiastic conversation, her expressive face and body. The night drug on, the fire burned down, but neither really noticed the passing of the time. Tashin did not even notice when the hour in which Elias usually returned came and went.

Tashin was laughing at one of Lyritta's stories from her exploits in Durotar and was about to say something else when a loud, angry pounding came from the front door. It came again, long and loud, and there was unintelligible yelling from the street outside. There was another loud thud against the door and then a long silence.

The two young elves looked at each other with wide eyes, and then Lyritta began to stand. Tashin followed suit, stepping next to her and putting a protective hand on her arm. They exchanged an anxious glance in the heavy silence, and then there was an earsplitting scream and then someone was calling out from the street again.

"Call the guards! Sun bless us someone call the Guards!" More alarmed voices joined the first.

Another anxious glance and they were both hurrying down the ramp to the first floor. The yelling, the voices were just outside the door. Tashin motioned Lyritta back and then cautiously pulled the door open and peered out. A ring of horrified looking citizens had gathered in a semi-circle around the front steps of the Seregon estate. As the door creaked open numerous fel-green eyes that caught the flickering of the street lamps looked up to see Tashin and Lyritta in the doorway.

A pregnant silence fell and the two young elves stared back at the crowd.

Tashin didn't understand what was going on until he heard Lyritta scream behind him and he pulled the door open wider. Something indistinct in the darkness of the stoop shifted and fell against his foot. He looked down and then heard his own scream, rough and strangled in his ears.

A voice cried from the crowd. "Light, where are the Guards?! Elias Seregon has been murdered!"

Lyritta screamed again and began to sob. Without knowing what he was doing Tashin drew back to pull her into his arms, forcefully pressing her face into his shoulder so that she could not see. At Tashin's feet, wrapped in a dirty, bloodied blanket strewn with tangled red hair was what was left of the body of Elias Seregon.


	12. Responsibility

Responsibility 

There was, of course, an official inquest into the murder of Elias Seregon. As the head of his house, though his sister was now all that remained of it, he deserved diligence and justice. As far as Tashin was concerned that was not what he got.

He saw the comings and goings of the city guards and investigators, spoke with them, heard their hushed conversations, but he did not see anything come of it. It was as if they were just going through the motions, overlooking things with only perfunctory glances. And when they came to the estate they went through it in a manner more akin to searching a criminal's house, pulling books from shelves, going through Elias' personal belongings, leaving his desk completely turned out, than trying to find clues to the identity of his killer.

Despite Zalmon's urgings Tashin had refused to leave the Seregon estate, staying to be what comfort he could to Lyritta. He feared that she might be taken advantage of in some way, and so never left her side when the guards were "investigating." His sense of protectiveness and responsibility towards her surprised him a little. What surprised him more was how much she suddenly seemed to depend on him. Her brash temper and snarky humor had seemed to completely evaporate in the face of her brother's death. Now she seemed uncertain of herself, cowed, frightened, and hovered almost constantly at Tashin's side, asking his advice, having him answer questions for her.

What surprised Tashin more than Lyritta's behavior was how fulfilling it was to feel that she, that anyone, relied on him. When she asked his opinion or asked him to deal with the investigators or some confusing matter of House business that she suddenly found in her lap he did not feel like the sickling, weak brother he had always been dismissed as. He felt strong, useful, responsible. It was intoxicating. He wondered if this was how Zalmon felt, why he craved power the way that he did.

"It's like they're looking for something," Tashin said thoughtfully as he sat in the window seat of one the large windows in Zalmon's sitting room. "They say they are looking for something that might help with the investigation, but what could they possibly find now that they wouldn't have found already? They've gone through all of his personal affects. His desk, his books, every nook and cranny of the estate. I have to be on constant alert to ensure they aren't walking off with anything valuable. I mean, really, is this what our society has come to?" He looked over at Zalmon who was leaning against his desk, sipping a cup of tea.

Zalmon couldn't help but chuckle at that, arching on long, immaculate brow. "This coming from a rogue, a petty thief? A thief of-"

"Alright! Point taken," Tashin growled, narrowing his eyes a little. "Those days are far behind me."

"Yes, I've noticed. You've become quite… responsible in your current position."

Tashin's eyebrow raise matched his older brother's. "And what 'position' is that?"

"As Lyritta Seregon's defacto guardian. At least that is what it appears you have become. Not only to me, but to the guard. Of course they assume that I've got my hand at your back, which further makes it appear that House Dorthonion stands to subsume House Seregon. A fortunate perception for both parties in my opinion." Zalmon sipped his tea.

Tashin stared at his brother for a long moment and then blinked slowly, his eyes still narrow. "You're pleased, aren't you? About what happened to Elias. His murder means nothing to you but the potential for gain."

Zalmon had the sense to look at least mildly offended by Tashin's words. "No! Seregon's death did not make me 'pleased', but it wasn't exactly unexpected. I did warn him on several occasions, and my warnings were earnest even if he chose to take them as no more than baiting." Zalmon shrugged. "He was one of the few truly respectable members of our society left, and had he been a bit more savvy he would have made a powerful political ally despite the failing of his House. His death was unfortunate, and I understand that it grieves you deeply, for which I am sorry and find the whole thing unpleasant, but that does not mean that we should not take every advantage of what the situation has left us."

"You're a snake," Tashin sneered and then looked away out the window, feeling his eyes start to sting with tears.

Zalmon stood and walked towards the window with a conceited swagger. "Oh, you're going to pretend that you had such deep feelings for the paladin? That you weren't just using him in your own way?"

Tashin grit his teeth, feeling a sting of shame at Zalmon's words for the truth they carried. "I… I did care for him. Elias was a good man."

"I didn't say he wasn't. But that's not the point. You still used him. To keep your health, to heal your heart, to satiate your desires, to keep your connection to Tav-"

"Alright enough!" Tashin turned quickly to glare at Zalmon, his eyes now brimming with tears. "Elias' death is a tragedy! One no one seems concerned about seeking justice for! Perhaps you should put your considerable 'political influence' to work and do what the city guard seems to feel is unnecessary to do!"

Zalmon snorted softly. "And why should they seek justice for Seregon? Lor'themar Theron and his cronies are trying to prove he was a traitor to Kael'thas so that they can seize his estate."

Tashin's mouth fell open. "W-what?"

"Why else do you think they keep coming back and searching the place? They're not looking for information to lead to his killer. They're looking for 'proof' of his treason. I don't think it's out of the realm of the likely that they're the ones who had Seregon killed in the first place. I thought you'd figured that much out. Of course I don't believe Elias to be the kind of man who would leave incriminating information just lying around for them to find, but then neither do they. Things need to be taken in hand before they tear the place apart and leave Seregon's poor sister completely destitute."

Tashin felt a momentary wave of panic as he thought of Lyritta, of her having everything she had left taken out from under her. Here he was thinking himself her great protector while something so obvious had been going on right under his nose. "What can we do?" his voice was almost a whisper.

Zalmon shrugged nonchalantly and took another sip of his tea. "Take things in hand ourselves."

"Find his killers? Prosecute them?"

Zalmon snorted and narrowed his eyes seriously at Tashin. "Don't be sentimental. That would accomplish nothing. If they were hired by the city's leaders what difference would it make? Even I with all of the other Houses at my back couldn't put Theron on trial. No matter what happens the official report of Elias' death will be that he was either killed by street thugs or the Wretched." The warlock smiled slowly, cruelly then. "But that doesn't mean there can't be justice, or that we can't protect our interests. I already know who killed Elias Seregon. It's obvious."

Tashin, furrowed his brows and wiped at his eyes. A familiar excitement was growing in the pit of his stomach. "Who?"

"Think, Tashin. The answer is, as I stated, obvious. Who has Elias taken from? Who had he defied? Who would take these things as a personal slight? Who can be –bought- by the city guard, paid to kill?"

Tashin's eyes widened as he took in Zalmon's words and he gasped softly as the realization came over him, and he was irritated by how obvious it truly was. "Zelanis? The master of the Rogue's Guild? You think the leaders of Silvermoon hired him to kill Elias?"

Zalmon's eyes twinkled. "I doubt it would have taken much convincing. No one makes a more bitter enemy than a former friend. They may not have even had to pay him. I doubt Zelanis would have been so bold himself, but with a little encouragement…" He let his words trail off. "He probably lured Elias away from the public debate, an easy feat when your target is such a trusting old fool of an old friend. And then… well you saw the body, didn't you?"

Tashin's face became dark, clouded, hard. "What do you want to do?"

"I'll make you a deal," Zalmon's smile widened a bit to show his gleaming, wet, white teeth. "I don't want you doing anything foolish like running off to get revenge on your own. No matter how full of righteous indignation you are you're still rather weak physically. But my craft lends me many ways to kill a man quietly. Painfully. For you, my little brother, I would do this, and seek revenge on your lover's killer."

Tashin's gaze was wary now, and he eyed Zalmon narrowly. "But you want something from me? That's where the deal comes in. What could you possibly want from me that you can't get already?"

"Well you see, that's where things are easy on you, because all I want from you is for you to continue doing what you have been doing since Elias' death: protecting his sister, protecting our interests in what remains of House Seregon. Only in a more… official capacity."

Tashin continued to eye Zalmon, confused by the meaning behind his words. He licked his lips and shifted in the window seat as he began to grasp them. "Official capacity? You… you want me to marry Lyritta. So that I become the Master of House Seregon and its subsumation into House Dorthonion can be made official," he scoffed a little, offended by his brother's calculating.

Zalmon took another sip of his tea, and though his voice became a little impassioned his expression remained calm. "And why not? Serving as Lyritta's bodyguard gives you no power to truly protect her. The poor thing is dizzy with grief and youth, she has no idea how to protect herself or her house. She will inevitably end up being taken advantage of by another House, or the House council itself. As Master of the House you would have the power to turn away the city guard, to lock the estate to them, end their witch hunt – which if they are successful in would mean not only destitution for Seregon's sister, but could also mean her head. Theron does not look kindly on the family of traitors."

"He wasn't a traitor!" Tashin cried.

Zalmon arched an eyebrow again. "Of course not. But they don't care about the truth, Tashin. They only want to serve their own agenda. Voices of dissent must be silenced. I don't know why you are resisting. It's not like you're ever going to have Tavian back. If it's that you're completely disinterested in the opposite sex-"

"I'm not," Tashin growled.

Zalmon shrugged. "Well even if it was, it's not as if you couldn't work something out. Look at Aeltha and her husband. They barely see each other."

"Lyritta would never agree to a marriage like that! She's far too… romantic."

Zalmon sighed. "I think when the alternatives are put to her, you won't seem like such a bad one. And it's not as if you couldn't convince her of your affections. You're quite good."

Tashin's eyes narrowed. "Good? At what?"

Zalmon snorted and walked back to his desk, setting his tea down. "Manipulation, my dearest little brother. You're quite good. I saw you play Tavian even if he didn't."

Tashin bristled at that. "And what then is my motivation? I'm not power hungry like you are, Zalmon."

"Of course you are. You're my little brother and our father's son. That's why you played Tavian. You liked the power it gave you over him. I admit that you have been very grievously underestimated for most of your life, but that one taste of power has most assuredly left you hungry for more. You had power over Elias as well, and I'm sure you enjoyed it just as much. Don't tell me you have not felt quite good about yourself having Lyritta cling to your side and your every word in these past days of need."

Tashin clenched his jaw, but felt himself shrinking a little at Zalmon's words. He sank back into the window seat. "That's different! I'm useful to her! I'm… responsible for her. I'm doing good being there for her. It's not for selfish gain."

"You think everything I do is for selfish gain?" the eyebrow again.

"Isn't it?"

"Oh no. Quite the contrary, little brother. Everything I do is for you. And for Sorawen. And for our family and our House and our city and our people and on and on. I do the things I do and manipulate things the way I do, because in the end my way is better than any other. I truly believe this. Perhaps it is conceited, but so far I haven't been proven wrong. The more places my influence extends the better I can make things."

Tashin curled his lip. "You're a megalomaniac."

Zalmon chuckled. "Perhaps. But my deal still stands. You have the opportunity to truly live up to your potential, to take responsibility, to be seen and recognized as a man who can stand on his own feet. The Master of your own House. You can make a difference, Tashin. One that even I cannot make without you. I can try to protect the Seregon girl, but without official ties to our House there is really only so much that can be done. You could protect her, honor her and your precious Elias, forever. Only you. And it isn't even as if you don't care for her at all. Your friendship is quite… touching in its way."

Tashin swallowed at that. He did care for Lyritta. She was perhaps the only person left in his life now that he really could care about. Would it really be so bad? What were his other prospects anyhow? What were hers? Elias would have wanted her safe, protected. Was Zalmon right? Could he really give that to her?

He licked his lips, finding himself swayed at least a little. "Fine. Give me a little time to… court her, to see if she could even have romantic feelings for me. Then if she agrees, so will I. But I won't have you strong arm her into any kind of agreement. It's up to Lyritta. If she wants me, then… we'll be married."

Zalmon smiled again and nodded his head once. "That is all I can ask."

"And Zelanis?"

Zalmon's smile grew, becoming darker. "Consider Seregon's revenge achieved."

Zelanis sat behind his desk. The candle by which he was going over his books had long ago burned low and was now almost to the point of guttering out in a molten pool of its own wax. He made a few more marks on the page he was working on before looking up to acknowledge the intruder he had sensed come in about two minutes ago.

"I wasn't expecting you tonight. I've done everything you've paid me to do and then some. Was there something –else- I could help you with?" his tone was irritated, a little acid. He looked up.

"Nothing major. I was in the neighborhood and thought I might stop in to see the body. I trust that you've procured it?" he deep, bored drawl came from the shadows beyond the ring of light the candle afforded around the desk.

Zelanis snorted. "'In the neighborhood?' Isn't your estate on the other side of the city?"

The silence from the shadows was not amused.

The rogue master took a deep breath and stood, throwing his quill down on top of his books. "Yes, I have the body. Just as you asked. I'm keeping it on ice, also as requested." Zelanis' fel-green eyes searched the darkness of his room. "If I didn't know better I might think you are a sick man, Master Stromcaller."

Zalmon did chuckle then as he stepped forward and just into the ring of light. The succubus at his side licked her lips as she eyed the rogue and made a soft sound of excitement. Zalmon's raised finger quieted her. "Nothing of the sort, Zelanis. It's not in too bad of shape, though, I hope."

Zelanis grunted. He hated this business, and was starting to regret that he'd ever agreed to Zalmon's offer. He had thought it would be of no consequence to him to kill Elias Seregon. They had been friends once, yes, but that had been a long time ago, and they'd very nearly been at each others' throats for the past year. And he had stolen two perfectly good rogues from him. Self righteous fool. Of course these things never went quite the way you anticipated, and as it turns out having killed the paladin was taking a larger toll on his conscience than he'd expected. Having his body with his placid, pure face staring back at him wasn't making things any better.

"No. It's actually remarkably well… preserved, considering." He grunted again. "I guess even funerary priests take pride in their work. I don't know why they care so much seeing as the bodies just end up cremated."

Zalmon chuckled. "A vain practice born of a vain culture. We want to show our best face to the gods as we're consumed by the sun's fire."

"That almost sounded poetic." Zelanis ran a hand through his blond hair and then rubbed at his eyes. He was drained.

"Did it? Hmmm." Zalmon waited a moment more and then said, "So are you going to show me, or are we just going to stand here?"

Zelanis sighed and met Zalmon's stare which was more intensely fel than most. "If you must. I don't understand why you warlocks have to be so morbid. I don't suppose you'll tell me why you actually had me go through all the trouble of procuring it."

"Couldn't have been that much trouble. I gave you a lot of money and a suitable decoy body to give the funerary priests."

"Doesn't make it any less heinous or creepy," Zelanis grumbled as he led them through a side door and down a winding ramp that led into the under city of Silvermoon.

"Of all of the heinous and creepy things you've done, I highly doubt this tops the list, Master Zelanis," Zalmon drawled. He lit a small felfire light in his palm, holding it aloft as he followed the rogue master, his boot heels lightly clicking on the polished stone, his succubus companion following obediently behind him.

Zelanis made no reply to that, leading the way in sullen silence through several twisting passageways and a few more doors that led eventually to what had effectively become a cold storage somewhere far below the Rogue's Guild on Murder Row. Zalmon found the name fitting and the irony of it all made him smile a little.

The door shut and latched quietly behind them and they were left in the frozen room. Zalmon could see his breath cloud before his face as well as he could see Zelanis'. There in the far corner, tucked away as if it could be hidden from sight and thought was the frozen body of Elias Seregon. Zalmon walked over to it, careful of the slippery floor, and peered down. "Hm. You were right. Very well preserved indeed considering the violent nature of his death. You can hardly tell how badly you beat him."

"I had help!" Zelanis snapped, surprising both of them.

Zalmon's eyebrow arched. "As if I care how brutal you were. Are you starting to care, Zelanis?"

The rogue trainers swallowed and shook his head. "What does it matter. It's done. As are were here. Let's go, I need some sleep."

"Not… quite done," Zalmon said, making a small gesture with his hand to his succubus who tittered excitedly and fairly moaned as she stepped out from behind him, turning her dark, glittering eyes on Zelanis. "Hold him still for me, pet."

Zelanis' brows furrowed in confusion and he started to back towards the door. "What-?" He heard the succubus giggle and suddenly his feet were frozen as she drew his gaze, and all he could do was stare. Her eyes lied and told him of a life he could have had.

Zalmon made another gesture, summoning a curse to slow the rogue's feet and weaken him. And then he sucked the voice from his chest. "I wouldn't mind letting you scream. I think we are far enough away from prying ears, but I really must play it safe. I can't afford for this little bit of unpleasant business to get back to my House. It's all for the better good, but it's so distasteful. The whole business." As he spoke the warlock reached easily into his arsenal of demon-gifted weapons and placed several afflictions upon the Rogue Master. He watched with a grim smile as his body and face began to twist with the wracking pain and horror.

"So I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you will have to die in fear, alone, in grave pain without even the comfort of your own screams," his face was placid, maybe even a little amused. "Such a terrible way to die…" The placid expression became a cruel sneer as the Master of House Dorthonion began to drain Zelanis' very soul.

Sometime later there were two lifeless bodies in the bleakness of the cold storage. "Zaagrab," Zalmon's voice was commanding, and from the shadows emerged a void walker. "You know what to do. Don't let anyone see you."

"As… you wish… Master," the demon made of shadow's deep breathy voice came.

The warlock mopped his brow with a cloth. Zelanis had resisted quite strongly. Not that it was of any consequence now. Zalmon looked down at his face still twisted with agony. He'd made sure his death was slow. He didn't want to feel that he had cheated Tashin out of his beloved revenge. How much more poignant it would be if he could leave the body to be discovered, but that would have just caused more work. People went missing all the time in this city. It was very important to set your affairs in order lest something should befall you.

He turned then to his succubus who was looking down at the body with lustful eyes. "You! Upstairs. Find me that contract."

She startled and then scuttled back towards the door, slipping on her hooves on the icy floor. "Yes, Master."

Zalmon moved towards the door then, too, watching the voidwalker as it began to gather the body of Zelanis into its shadowy form. Such distasteful business. He didn't know what the Forsaken wanted with their bodies, but allies were allies, and one needed allies even outside the city in these times, especially now that the Sin'dorei were officially members of the Horde. Support would be important from many corners. And when it came to manipulation and power the Forsaken were second to none.

Shuddering a little Zalmon wrapped his cloak more fully around himself and turned his back on the cold storage. "Don't forget to take both bodies, Zaagrab." He stepped back into the corridor, finding his way back upstairs where he collected his demon pet and the contract that would have implicated him in anything, and was on his way as silently as he had come.

The weeks went by, and when the disappearance of Zelanis the Rogue Master continued to go unsolved with no evidence of either a body or where he might have gone, the Rogue's Guild became restive. The rogues ran wild without assignments or oversight, petty thievery was on the rise, and the infighting between those who felt they should take Zelanis' place as Master of the Guild only made the disorganization worse. The House Council had long thought it wise to disband and arrest those affiliated with the Rogue's Guild, a subject on which they now met.

The Heads of the Houses sat in the council room arguing back and forth. They might have gone on forever had the head of House Dorthonion not finally spoken up with an intriguing suggestion.

"Why not legitimize the Rogue's Guild? It will be impossible to arrest that many cretins even if we do outlaw them, and the city guard would be preoccupied with their foolishness for months if not longer. If we force them to go on the run they'll end up on the streets or worse: as Wretched. Then we'll have an even bigger problem on our hands. Most of those who have fallen in with this 'Guild' are the bereft of our civilization. We shouldn't ignore them. Our population is severely diminished. Let's not all pretend that we haven't on occasion found use for a spy or an assassin or two. Even the leaders of this city appointed by Prince Kael'thas to rule in his stead would be lying through their teeth if they claimed as much." He paused for effect, letting his words sink in. "A league of assassins that serve Silvermoon and the Sin'dorei rather than themselves. You have to admit it is a rather tempting thought. I've done my research and even our new allies in Orgrimmar have such a thing. They call them 'The Shattered Hand'. If Thrall has assassins and spies who serve him loyally, why shouldn't we? Would you allow the bestial orcs and trolls to be more gifted at subterfuge than we? Our allies will not be our allies forever. Our falling out with the Alliance taught us that. We would do well to arm ourselves." He paused again, his intelligent eyes intense as he looked around the room of nobles. "What we need to do is appoint someone to head the Rogue's Guild that we trust, that is one of us, who answers to us."

There were murmurs, some of interest, some of approval, some of dissent.

"And who would this 'someone' be, Lord Zalmon?" one of the dissenters spoke up with a sneer in their voice.

"My brother, Tashin Stromcaller," he answered without hesitation. "He was a part of the Rogue's Guild, trained under Zelanis, and is a noble. He knows the ins and outs of the place and probably most of the thieves themselves. He's an ideal candidate and holds no other position within the city at this time. Lucky for us he is young and unappointed."

More murmurs.

"You realize, Lord Zalmon, that if your brother was to take control of the Rogue's Guild that your House would be personally responsible for its actions and anything that might go wrong. Rather a risky gamble, especially one involving so many low lives," Theron's representative counselor, the voice of ultimate authority always present at the Council of Houses, spoke up.

Zalmon nodded sagely, and stroked his goatee. "I do realize this, but it is a risk I am willing to take upon my House. That is simply how strongly I feel about it. That is…" he turned to the three other heads of Family in House Dorthonion, "if the other families of House Dorthonion, and of course the Houses who are allied with it are in agreement. I would not wish to bring shame to them."

Nods of support, if somewhat hesitant. Those who knew and served Zalmon well knew better than to cross him or to doubt his instincts.

"Then we shall work to this end. There will be an official announcement in some weeks once we've ironed out the details of such a venture. Those members of the Rogue's Guild as it stood under Zelanis who sign contracts pledging their fealty to the city and your brother as their master will be allowed to live. Those who do not shall be executed as examples," the counselor present announced. None of the heads of House dared refute a representative of Theron himself.

"You look like you've had a good day," Sorawen commented as she looked up from where she was reading on the bed, watching her husband as he began to undress himself.

Zalmon grinned at her and then shed his robe. "Everything is starting to fall perfectly into place."

Sorawen chuckled and raised her eyebrows, "And here I'd thought things had always been falling perfectly into place."

"Well, I suppose that is true. I am very careful and very diligent," he sat on the end of the bed and reached out to rub her ankle. There was a sensuality in his touch that she didn't miss.

"Getting your way always makes you so amorous. So tell me: what have you gotten your way about today?"

"At the House Council I convinced them and one of Theron's representatives to let me appoint Tashin to be master of the Rogue's Guild and have them swear fealty to the city," he snickered.

Sorawen's face sobered a bit. "That doesn't seem like that good of an idea. Tashin can hardly manage himself let alone a den full of thieves and backstabbers. You're getting ahead of yourself, dear heart. Shouldn't you have waited until he's proven himself a bit more, or at least until he marries that ridiculous Seregon girl?"

Zalmon shrugged. "What does it matter? I'll be making the decisions for him regardless."

"Are you sure about that?"

Zalmon chuckled, "Which is it? Are you going to underestimate him or accuse me of doing so. Stick to one plan of attack, wife of mine."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm only saying that he can be quite defiant. He might defy you just for the sake of doing so, not for the sake of making good decisions. That's all."

"Tashin will grow into his responsibilities. He is quite strong, despite how he acts. He only needs a little nurturing. You'll see. This will work immensely to the benefit of House Dorthonion."

"As all things eventually do."

"As well they should." He turned then and began to crawl up the bed. "Now, wife. Perform for me your marital duties."


	13. Traveler

**((I'm not generally one for extensive comments before my stories, cause really you don't read my stories because you want to read my blather. But I do have to leave a comment here to credit the very talented and most beloved of my heart - .net/u/1503156/ - for lending me several of her characters from "The Fire Dancer" and the use of a situation which was initially developed by her, but suited my purposes. We've developed quite a lot of canon overlapping background for several of our characters and I wanted to stay true to that in the development of this story. Thus if you are familiar with 's work you will get the joy of a brief cameo from Nok, his sister Sian, and a couple of their traveling companions. And if you're not familiar with them then you can read her fanfic and become familiar with them. :p )) **

Traveler

News of Elias' death traveled to Tavian in the small, delicate script of his sister in law. It both comforted and concerned him that she always seemed to know where to find him. He wondered if she stayed up late scrying for him, pinpointing his exact location and then reporting it to Zalmon. If he were to ever return to Silvermoon, even covertly, would the warlock already know? Would he be there to stop him from coming home ever again?

These were his thoughts as he held the small envelope in his hands. The innkeeper had held the letter for him when it arrived and handed it over when he returned, dusty and sweaty, from the desert wastes. He carried it to Kiril's room and let himself in without knocking. As usual his cousin was distracted by books, legs folded up under him in the chair at the desk, his long spill of bright orange-red hair falling over one shoulder, loosely bound.

"There's a letter," Tavian said flatly.

Kiril raised his head and looked back over his shoulder. His eyes lit up a bit. "From Tamarack?"

Tavian snorted softly, shaking his head at the priest's unflappable excitement over his lover. "No. I think it's from Sorawen." He held the envelope up so that Kiril could see the neat Thalassian writing on it.

"Oh," his said softly, brows drawing together. "Who is it addressed to?"

"To me."

Kiril blinked at Tavian as he watched the rogue just stand there holding the letter. "Well? You'd better open it."

Tavian twisted his lips and looked at the envelope, running one calloused finger over the imprint of the writing. "I don't really want to. I have a bad feeling about it. Why would she write to me?"

Kiril shrugged and sighed softly. "Maybe Zalmon has rethought things. Maybe he wants you to come home. Having Sorawen write his letters for him sounds like something he'd do."

Tavian shook his head. "Zalmon never wants to see me again. He'd sooner die than call me back to Silvermoon." As he spoke he slid his finger beneath the fold of the envelope and began to tear it open. Backing up he sat down on the edge of the bed and then pulled the letter out, beginning to read. It was short, only one page, and as Tavian read his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. His heart thumped and twisted in his chest, and when he looked up at Kiril his face was a mask of devastation.

Kiril stood, alarmed by Tavian expression. "What is it? Is Tashin-?"

Tavian shook his head sharply once and then looked away, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to hold back the stinging behind them. "No," he whispered. "It's not Tashin. It's Elias Seregon." He swallowed and tried not to choke on his words. "He's been killed."

"What?" Kiril gasped and snatched the letter from Tavian's trembling fingers so that he could read the letter himself, his fel-green eyes scanning the page quickly for answers and information. "Zelanis? They suspect Zelanis had a hand in it? But… why? I thought they were friends. Wasn't he the leader of the rogue's guild?"

Tavian nodded and then shook his head, covering his eyes with one hand. He didn't have any answers for Kiril. How could he possibly know? He'd been gone from the city for over half a year. He thought of Elias' face, so handsome and refined, yet somehow mirthful, almost innocent. He'd learned so much from the paladin, about alchemy, about himself.

He remembered their one kiss: the fevered press of the older elf's lips on his, how warm and solid and strong his body had felt pressing him against the wall. He'd kissed him back. The poor, honorable man had loved him. He'd said so, and he had kissed him back and then left him, choosing Tashin's safety over him and whatever they might have had together. Had he loved him back in some way? Despite all of the festering sickness of his overwhelming love for his twin had some small, healthy part of him loved the paladin? Tavian thought that it had, and that part of his heart was breaking now. He'd thought he didn't have any heart left to break.

Until that moment he had not realized that there had been a buried hope inside of him that when and if he ever did return to Silvermoon Elias might be there, waiting for him.

The young rogue slumped sideways onto the bed and lay there, fel-green eyes blank and staring towards the far wall.

Kiril let the letter fall to the ground and then crawled up onto the bed behind him. His expression was worried as he reached out to gently pet back Tavian's short, dark hair. "Tave," he said softly. "I'm so sorry. I know Elias was a dear friend to you, but please, don't do this again. I can't watch you disintegrate into yourself again."

Tavian was silent for a long moment and then he took a deep, shuddering breath. "How do you escape a world where everyone you love is taken beyond your grasp, Kiril? I don't want to be in this world anymore with its ties and its memories. What lies beyond in the Light? You're a priest. You should know."

Kiril furrowed his brows and his expression became a little angry. "If you're thinking about killing yourself or ending your life somehow, Tavian, you're being both stupid and childish. Suicide it a selfish, weak man's answer to the world's problems. There is no Light for such a man. Your soul would most likely become entangled in the endless Nightmare that ravages the spirit world. You would be nothing but the means to the suffering of others."

Kiril got up then and left Tavian to his wallowing, going back to the desk to write a letter to Tamarack to let him know what had happened.

When the initial shock of the news wore off Tavian found Elias' death easier to bear. He knew he had been melodramatic and hasty in his declarations of a desire for death, but the feeling of wanting to run away, to go somewhere where he had no ties and no memories clung to him. It clouded his thoughts and his vision, preoccupying him in everything that he did.

It was about a week after he'd gotten the letter that both Vo'jya and Tamarack arrived in Gadgetzan. Tamarack went, of course, to lock himself away with Kiril, but Vo'jya had come specifically to see Tavian with news of his own.

"Look, mon, I wanted ta let'cha know dat ya en't gwonna be seein' me aroun' da race tracks iny more. I'm takin' off. Fo' good mos' likeleh. Got some troubles dat be needin' ta be lef' behind."

Tavian's lips pulled to one side and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Troubles with angry goblin loan sharks kind of troubles, or something to do with those other trolls you came here with a while back?"

The troll snorted. "More da firs'."

Tavian's eyes flicked up to Vo'jya's. "Where would you go? To leave troubles like that behind you for good?"

The hunter narrowed his dark blue eyes and tilted his head to the side. "Probableh en't dat good of an idea I be tellin' you dat, Tavian, mon. Be pretteh common knowledge dat you an' I been t'ick as t'ieves dese past few mont's. You migh' be da firs' person dat gwonna be gettin' asked where I be goin'."

Tavian pursed his lips a little and furrowed his brows. "This isn't something I'm likely to get beat up over, is it?"

Vo'jya grinned slyly. "Wha', mon? Rogue like you can' take care of yo'self? Ya be tricksy, hey?"

Tavian snorted and shook his head. "Gee thanks. Maybe I should just go with you." He narrowed his eyes a little, suddenly feeling like maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. "Maybe I would if you told me where you were going. I've got nothing holding me here."

The troll tilted his head the other way, the light of the inn's common room fire catching on his bone colored tusks. His eyes narrowed a little more. "En't had someone ta travel wit' me in some time, mon. En't sure I wan' someone to."

Tavian jutted his chin out and up. "Why? I haven't proven myself a useful companion? I've made you a lot of money. Apparently not enough since you've managed to squander it and get yourself into trouble with the goblins. But still. Who says I won't still be useful?" He changed his tactics then, his face growing sincere. "I –need- to get out of here, Vo'jya. I'm restless and going crazy here. This whole world is full of bad memories. If there's a place I can go where my troubles can't follow then I want to go there. Take me with you. Please."

There was a hint of desperation in the Sin'dorei rogue's voice that made the tips of Vo'jya's long ears flick. He regarded the elf for another long minute before he spoke again. "Da Dark Portal. Dat's where I be goin'. To da Outland, wha' be lef' of da world dey called Draenor. Horde an' Alliance be gaddahrin' dere, makin' strongholds fo' deyselves ta figh' against da Legion an' yo' crazeh Prince. I figure a whole oddah world be a pretteh good place ta go if ya don' wanna get found, hey? Plenteh of work dere. Plenteh of wide eyed suckahs lookin' fo' adventure, too. Rumors be dat what be lef' of dat place bein' one big deat' trap. Who gwonna be chasin' me dere, hey?"

Tavian's eyes widened as Vo'jya spoke and he gasped a little. Of course! It was perfect. A whole world apart from Azeroth where he would know no one and no one would know him. He would have no memories clinging to him there. He would be free. "Let me go with you!" he hissed excitedly. "We can leave as soon as you want. Tomorrow even! We make a good team, Vo'jya. You can't deny it."

The troll regarded him carefully, mulling the idea over. He liked Tavian well enough, and having someone to watch your back was usually a good idea. At least for a time. "No, I can'. Ya sure abou' comin' wit' me? Dere en't no guarantee dat'cha can be comin' back iny time soon. No guarantee we even gwonna survive da journey dere."

Tavian nodded once, decisively. "I'm sure. Just… let me tell Kiril. He should know where I'm going."

"Outland?" Kiril burst out as he straightened his light linen shirt, sweeping his cascade of long hair over his shoulder.

Tamrack was reclining on the bed wearing only a thin pair of leather breeches, and he'd been hard pressed to get him to put on even that much when Tavian had come to knock at the door. The druid now eyed the scene with passive, almost bored golden eyes. He wasn't following the orcish very well.

"Are you mad?" Kiril exclaimed, continuing. "Why in the name of the Light would you want to go there? There's nothing there, Tavian! Nothing! That whole world has been blasted apart and rent asunder. There's nothing there but charred earth and shattered lives."

"Outland is where Prince Kaelthas went to find the salvation of our people, don't forget, Kiril," Tavian countered. "Are you questioning his wisdom?"

Kiril snorted at that. "Of course I am! The tides of favor have been steadily turning against Kaelthas since he left for that forsaken place! Rumors were that he'd allied himself with Illidan! The last official report I'd heard before we left the city – which they conveniently keep from the public – was that a contingent of his own men had turned against him and allied themselves with the Draenei, or at least their Naaru benefactors." He sighed and his shoulder slumped. "Isn't there enough adventure for you here?"

Tavian shook his head. "It's not about adventure, Kiril. It's about… leaving things behind. I feel like the misfortunes of this world are just clinging to me here. I could toss all that aside if I could leave Azeroth."

Kiril blinked at him and then scoffed. "You really think that you can just shed all of your troubles by going somewhere else? Tavian, you carry your troubles inside of you. Your love for Tashin, what transpired between the two of you, what has happened to Elias, and whatever else he has meant to you-those things are within you. They aren't things you can shed like a cloak just because the weather of some new place doesn't call for rain. Going to the Outland is not going to make you forget them."

Tavian scowled. "At least I would be preoccupied by the newness of things. I could find a purpose there. I do nothing but drift here, Kiril. I've made my decision. Stop trying to change my mind. Besides," he sighed and his expression softened a little. "Without me to look after you'll be free to go where you want with Tamarack, to pursue your own purpose. I will forever be indebted to you for what you've done for me, Kiril, but I need to do something for myself. I need to leave, and leave you to your life."

Kiril swallowed at that and his expression softening as well. He glanced over to Tamarack on the bed, and the druid's answering glance was curious. Could they find some purpose together?

Tamarack sat up further and addressed Kiril in common. "What are you going on about? I can't understand that thick tongue."

Kiril sighed and pursed his lips, answering him in the same language. "Tavian says he's going to Outland with that… troll friend of his. I'm trying to convince him not to go."

Tamarack's eyebrows rose. "Oh? Why are you doing that?"

Kiril narrowed his eyes. "You think he should go?"

Tamarack shrugged. "Why not? They need help there."

"What do you know about it?" Kiril's voice held a small scoff.

The druid blinked owlishly. "Quite a lot, actually. The Cenarion Circle has a strong foothold there as does the Earthen Ring with whom I've had many dealings in Silithus. Both are trying to heal the broken land of Draenor, and reports say there has been some success. Beyond that my niece, young Aage - perhaps you remember her? – is there in service of the Alliance and a faction that is calling themselves 'The Scryers.' She sends information home that trickles down to me not infrequently. They've restored one of the Draenei cities. Apparently both Horde and Alliance are working in somewhat tense harmony to strike out against their mutual enemies."

Kiril's mouth had fallen somewhat open and he blinked back at his lover, his expression a bit cowed. "I… had no idea."

"What is he saying?" Tavian broke in, somewhat irritated by the lengthy exchange between them that he could not understand.

Kiril turned back to Tavian with a sigh. "Apparently Tamarack knows a lot about what is going on in the Outland. I don't know why I'm surprised, he always seems to know everything I expect that he should know nothing about," he grumbled.

Tavian perked, his ears twitching a little bit. "Well, what did he say?"

Kiril tsked, knowing that this information was going to have the opposite effect of making Tavian change his mind. "Apparently many different factions have taken an interest in Outland for their own reason, including the Cenarion Circle. Tamarack claims there's a reclaimed city there from which the Horde and Alliance are cooperatively fighting against mutual enemies. Though how much of that can be trusted as truth I'm not sure. His niece is there working for… some faction."

Tamarack rose from the bed then and stepped over to the two shorter elves. "Translate for me," he said briskly to Kiril, who glowered a bit, but complied. "There is a city there called Shattrath, the last and only great city of the Draenei. You should make your way there, and when you do seek out my niece, a warrior named Aage Stongbough. She has aligned herself with the deserters of Kaelthas. They call themselves the Scryers. As a Blood Elf you should find it relatively easy to gain access to her and to them. And here," he paused turning and going over to his pack, rummaging in it for a long moment before he produced a wood and feather beaded talisman. A carving of stag's antlers adorned the central wooden disk.

He held it out to Tavian. "Keep this with you. I was going to give it to Kiril, but I can make him another. It will mark you as a friend to the druids and also the Kaldorei. Wearing it you will be hard pressed to find one of my race that would take a hand to you. Traditionally it would be worn in the hair, like so," he tied it to a clump of Tavian's hair above one of his ear and grunted. "Adornments always make your race look so feminine. On a length of leather worn beneath your clothes would be fine as well. Perhaps it would be best. You may not want everyone whose path you cross to see that you have it. There may be those who will question your rightful ownership of it, but you can give them my name. It still holds some sway in certain circles."

Tavian blinked at the gift and at Tamarack's words as Kiril translated them. They armed him with far more than he had expected when he'd decided to enter the Dark Portal, and that made him braver, glad of his decision. He touched the talisman, vowing he would take it out of his hair before he left Gadgetzan. "Thank you, Tamarack. Andu-falah-dor," He smiled softly up at the tall elf.

Tamarack smiled back. "Andu-falah-dor. Ande'thoras-ethil. Elune-Adore."

Tavian warmed at the Darnassian words, and though he didn't understand the words themselves, he understood their meanings. He turned his eyes then to Kiril. "I should pack. We're leaving in the morning, very early."

Kiril swallowed and nodded, sighing as he resigned himself to Tavian's decision. "I'll wake to see you off. I don't want this to be goodbye."

Tavian twisted his lips a little. "I'll sneak away even if you wake, Kiril. I don't want to make a scene of it. Besides, it's best for Vo'jya if we leave quietly without notice. He's got things to run away from, too."

Kiril frowned at that. "I'm so glad your traveling companion is so scrupulous."

"He'll watch my back."

"Are you sure? He is a troll."

"Trolls have their own honor, Kiril. And he's not Amani. There are different kinds of trolls, you know."

Kiril rolled his eyes. "Oh are there really? I didn't know."

Tavian chuckled and embraced his cousin suddenly, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for everything, Kiril. I wouldn't have survived without you. Write to me at this… Shattrath place if you can. I have no idea if mail will even get there, but I'll look for your letters regardless."

They embraced for a long moment, both fighting a stinging behind their eyes. Kiril pressed his forehead to Tavian's thinking of all that had meant to each other and all they had helped each other survive. "Al diel shala, malanore," he said softly.

Tavian smiled at the moniker. Malanore: traveler. That was who and what he was now, just another traveler. No ties, no home, no history. Soon to be a traveler of worlds. Malanore

The rogue placed a soft kiss on the corner of Kiril's mouth. "Shorel'aran." With that he pulled away and turned to go, nodding respectfully to Tamarack who nodded back, and then shutting the door behind him to leave the two lovers to themselves.

Dawn found Kiril and Tamarack asleep in each others' arms. Kiril had cried for a while after Tavian left, divulging his fears and feelings to his lover, and then had fallen asleep against his broad, warm chest. It also found Tavian's room empty, the remaining gold needed to pay up his tab left on the desk with a note to the innkeeper.

To the north, as the sun's first rays broke weakly over the surrounding cliffs, two figures, one astride a raptor the other a black hawkstrider, made their way quickly across the sparkling, crusted earth of the Salt Flats. With a little luck and a good amount of speed they would find themselves in the Crossroads by nightfall, and on the boat headed back to Booty Bay from Ratchet by the next day's noon. If they kept up a good pace and were cautious as they crossed through the human lands on their way towards Stonard, Vo'jya claimed they could be at the Dark Portal within two days of landing in Booty Bay.

It was all Tavian could think of as they passed through the towering rock formations of Thousand Needles. Less than a week and he would be free. Free of his old life, free of his memories, free of the shackles of his broken heart and spirit. He need not be Tavian Stormcaller in the shattered, new world that every step of Jabbi's scaly feet brought him closer to. There he could be just another nameless, faceless passer through. Another blade for hire, another mercenary looking for coin or an easy mark. No one need ever know him as more than a traveler. There he need never be more than Malanore again.

Beyond the Dark Portal lay Hellfire Peninsula, and for a time Tavian called the red, barren, demon plagued land home. He and Vo'jya found the Horde outpost of Thrallmar more than accommodating to their presence, and though neither of them chose to enlist to serve the Horde directly there was always plenty of mercenary work to be found. And it paid well.

What paid even better than the tasks given out by the Horde overseers of Thrallmar were the wide-eyed adventurers looking to make a name for themselves who were happy to pay a guide or two who knew their way around the accursed land or the frightening halls of the fel orc fortress, Hellfire Citadel.

Tavian and Vo'jya made it their business to familiarize themselves with every nook and cranny of the citadel, and once or twice the young rogue even laid eyes upon the monstrosity that was chained in its deepest bowels. At night when the peninsula was still you could hear its enraged howls, eerie and chilling in the cold desert air. Its name was whispered fearfully even among the fel orcs: Magtheridon. What business the fel orcs had with such a demon, Tavian did not know, and he didn't wish to learn. That they would call one of their halls "The Blood Furnace" was enough to make to him shudder.

During their time at Thrallmar, Tavian and Vo'jya were not alone in their companionship. The constant need for reinforcements brought many faces of many races to the Horde fortress. Some were just passing through on their way to other outposts or to the city of Shattrath. These were usually good for a drink and a game of dice, always with a friendly wager of course. Others stayed to serve the interests of Thrallmar, fight back the demons that roamed Hellfire, and strengthen the Horde's foothold against the Alliance who also sought to make Hellfire their own.

Among those that came and stayed was a group of four Darkspear trolls: Nok, a fellow rogue, his younger sister, Sian, who along with Kall, were both hunters, and a flame haired warrior, Akashii, who was also Sian's lover. Soon after their arrival it became apparent that Vo'jya was already – disdainfully? – familiar with at least Nok and Akashii, though when Tavian questioned him about their history he merely shrugged and said something about rude goblins and the binding nature of intertwining histories.

These trolls were enlisted with the Horde's armies, carrying forth the will of the Warchief and that of their tribe. Their devotion to which made Tavian curious about Vo'jya's own nature. He was the only troll that the young Sin'dorei had ever known well, and so had taken much of Vo'jya's character as telling about the nature of all trolls. Now he wondered if the Darkspear hunter was not more the exception than the rule, and for the first time he questioned Vo'jya's motives, his loyalties, his character. Juxtaposed beside others of his tribe he became a bit of a conundrum to Tavian.

Tavian never asked Vo'jya about these things. He found that he trusted the troll regardless and there had always been an unspoken pact between them that neither would question the other's past.

For over half a year they sat in the baking heat of Hellfire Peninsula and ran errands for the leaders of Thrallmar. Thoughts of journeying further on were forgotten for a time as were Tamarack's words of advice to seek out Shattrath and his niece there. Together he and Vo'jya ran quite a racket taking green adventurers and even military recruits through the Citadel. They earned somewhat of a name for themselves, Malanore and his hunter companion.

And when the hot day was over Tavian found that he liked the smoky, loud, derelict atmosphere of Thrallmar's makeshift inn and tavern. He even liked the ogre swill they called ale and served there and the banter he could share with his new and passing through "friends." Goading Nok, who was spiritual even for a troll despite his rather raucous and promiscuous nature, into conversation pertaining to Tavian's skepticism over the troll's claims that there was anything divine about the calling of a rogue no matter what his trollish deities claimed, was one of his favorite evening pastimes. It seemed to amuse the others as well. Tavian insisting that rogues were really nothing but glorified petty thieves and Nok hopping mad by the end of their theological "debate." Even Vo'jya would laugh.

For a while it felt to Tavian as if he really had left his past behind him. He was rarely alone and at night rarely sober, and so it was not difficult not to think of Silvermoon and Tashin and Elias. What did family matter anyway? What was family to a nameless person? For eight months he wore his cloak of forgetfulness, enjoying the company of a race that was not his own. It took only one evening to scatter the threads of his placid passivity to the wind. To make Hellfire a place he could no longer call home.

"So… you're just going to stay mad at him?" Tavian asked over his mug of warm ale. He peered over the top of it at the young troll woman, Sian, and then sipped at the lukewarm foam.

"If I wan', yeah," she growled back, lifting her chin haughtily. "At leas' 'til he admits his wrong propah and honest like."

Tavian looked back over his shoulder at the collected group of male trolls who were pretending not to watch them from across the room. They'd gone on a raid on the Citadel earlier that day with the Horde, and not included the young female. Now there was a tiff between her and her lover on the matter. Tavian didn't know why he'd been sent to talk her down, something about him being small and more feminine that the others. He was pretty drunk, so he must have agreed otherwise he wouldn't be sitting there talking to her.

The male trolls looked at him with "well?" expressions on their faces and he furrowed his brows and shrugged before turning back to Sian. "Okay then. Men are stupid anyway."

Sian blinked and then snorted, looking at him. "Ya drunk, Tavian-mon."

Tavian nodded at that and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Why yes, yes I am."

She giggled and turned towards him to say something, but paused as there was a shudder through the earth, or at least Tavian thought there was, because suddenly he swayed, catching himself on the table.

"Either the world just shook or I am –really- drunk."

Looking around it appeared that the rest of the patrons had felt it too. Heads were lifted, turning this way and that, looking around a little confused but not quite concerned. Tremors and quakes were not uncommon in the peninsula, especially if the burrower worms were nearby. It came again, this time glasses rattled on tables and pebbles on the earthen floor bounced, kicked up a little.

Tavian blinked and then stood, turning his head and looking around as well. Another tremor and he swayed, catching himself again. "What in the-?"

Then there were cries of alarm from outside and a sickening crunching sound, muffled, but awful. And then a sound that everyone knew.

It was a bellow, like a horn or an organ pipe, something metallic and not quite alive and yet frighteningly so at the same time. A sound that was just the right pitch, just the right combinations of notes to send shivers down your spine and make the insides of your ears hurt almost enough to make you think clawing them out would be a better alternative than listening.

It was the sound of a Fel Reaver. And it was on top of them.

When the bellow broke off there was a moment of complete silence, barely a breath's length as those sitting in the tavern took a moment to believe, to digest the horror of what the sound heralded. And then there was motion. Everyone was on their feet, rushing to the door, calling to each other, calling for weapons, gathering friends together, rushing out to face the onslaught.

Tavian wavered on his feet and threw down his ale, shimmying between the larger bodies of most of the patrons, slipping forward to get to the doorway, calling out for Vo'jya. Once outside he had to stop, as did most of those rushing out of the building. The Fel Reaver really was on top of them. Its huge, twisted metallic body cast a long shadow over Thrallmar in the fading light of evening. It has already crushed part of the outer wall. That was what the crunching sound had been. Now it seemed to be debating the best course of action.

It bellowed again, and now cries of fear and confusion went up from those collected in Thrallmar's grounds. There was a rush and a crush of bodies as those surging forward to meet the threat collided with those rushing back to flee from it.

Tavian's mind whirled and suddenly he was lost in the crowd. He couldn't see any of the trolls that he knew. Where had Sian gone when they'd rushed from the tavern? Where were Vo'jya and Nok? They'd been beside him, near him, hadn't they? Familiar looking orcs, military grunts, rushed past him. One shoved into him and he tripped over his feet which felt like lead.

Another bellow. His ears drooped and he couldn't help but crouch down, intense fear trembling through his body. He covered his head and closed his eyes, hoping the others would just pass by him.

"You! Elf!" a thick, guttural, orc voice could be heard above the general din. Then there was a hand on his shoulder, yanking him up, spinning him around into the face of Nazgrel, the orc leader of the fortress. "What are you doing? Move your cowardly legs and make some use of them!" Spittle from the orc's thick lips hit his face.

Tavian just stared back at him, eyes wide. Where were his companions?

The orc scoffed and threw him back, making him stumble, though he did not lose his footing and fall. "Get to Falcon Watch!" he snarled. "You're a rogue, aren't you? Slip out the gate! Get your filthy, cowardly brethren to send reinforcements!"

Tavian stood and stared at him, trying to make sense of his words.

"Go!" the orc lieutenant shouted, shoving him towards the stables. "Before all the mounts are dead! Take one and go!"

Tavian didn't argue then. This orc was giving him permission to flee, and he did not waste it. Turning on his heels he sprinted to the stables, his small size and agility allowing him to maneuver through the others. He could not look towards the Fel Reaver, because he knew doing so would lock his legs again. He grabbed the first mount he came across, an orcish riding wolf that smelled almost as bad as Hellfire at midday, but he didn't care.

As stealthily as he could he led the fearful beast along the inside of the wall, its eyes rolling in its head as the Fel Reaver bellowed again and there was another sickening crunching sound as it flattened one of the guard towers. There were other, wetter sounds, and screams.

Somehow they made it through the gate, and they couldn't be gone fast enough for either of them. As soon as Tavian made it onto the wolf's back he gave the dumb thing its head and they were gone, red dirt flying up behind them. Even so Falcon Watch was no short distance away. Halfway across the peninsula it was an hour later at least when he arrived and several more before the Ranger Captain in charge of the watch saw fit to mobilize any help. It was deep night and too late by the time they returned to Thrallmar.

There was an eerie hush over the small fortress as thick as the night. The huge metal body of the mechanical monster lay across part of the wall, several smaller buildings, including part of the stable crushed beneath it. It, too, was eerily still.

The air smelled acrid, like oily smoke and blood. The recovery effort of the wounded and slain had already begun. Bodies were lined up under the eaves of the barracks. Tavian did not look too long at them as he crept back into the orc outpost with the small battalion from Falcon Watch in tow, taking them to the war hall.

The disdainful eyes of Nazgrel and the other Thrallmar leaders met them. "As always with your people, too little too late," he growled. Tavian slipped away then to leave the Falcon Watch contingent to explain themselves to Nazgrel.

The inn, amazingly, had been spared and with a deep breath the young rogue turned in that direction, though he was fearful of who he would, or would not, find waiting there.

"Tavian!"

Tavian turned around at the sound of his name. Vo'jya was loping towards him down from the hill where one of the towers was perched. "Mon, where da fuck have ya been?" he growled.

Tavian sighed in relief to see the hunter. "I was sent to get reinforcements from Falcon Watch. We just now got here. Obviously too late."

Vo'jya's face was drawn and a little pinched. He looked unwell in a way Tavian had never seen before. "Much too late," he grit his teeth. "Sian be dead." He didn't say anything more about it than that before he turned away and headed towards the inn.

Tavian followed him after a moment, letting the cold, hard lump of disbelief settle in the pit of his stomach. Sian? The young troll woman he had been talking with just before the attack? Was she still mad at her lover when she died? The sadness of the thought struck him and Tavian choked on a sob of strange, general grief.

He didn't sleep well that night, and in the morning he found Vo'jya and the other trolls helping to build funeral pyres out of the crushed wood of the walls and buildings. He worked beside them for a long while, only after a long time seeking Nok out of some feeling of sympathy or perhaps even morbid curiosity.

"What will you do now?" he asked, his voice flat.

Nok looked up from his work and lowered his dull, almost too dark green eyes to Tavian. They and his expression were as flat as the other rogue's voice. "I will take mah sistah's ashes home aftah she has been given da deat' rites of our tribe. Den I'll face mah faddah an' mah moddah wit' da knowledge in mah heart dat I failed to protect deir daughtah as I promised I would when we lef' home fo' dis place. Dat's wha' a big broddah should do fo' a leetl sistah, yeah? Protect her."

Nok's words struck something deep inside of Tavian and he felt the weight of the this world and the one they had left behind pressing down on the both of them. He pursed his lips. "I failed my little brother, too. He died once because of me. I'm here because I did a bad job of protecting him." He looked down and murmured softly. "I understand, and I'm so sorry for your loss."

The Fel Reaver attack and Sian's death ruined everything. Whenever he tried to forget he saw that flat look on Nok's face and remembered his words and his own family and those that he had failed.

Whatever the event had stirred in Tavian about his past it seemed to have stirred something similar in Vo'jya. He was restless, distracted, more in his own head than even before in the days that followed. Then one day Tavian woke up to find that the hunter was gone. He'd left a note for him and presumably for the others. All it said was that he was returning to Azeroth to tie up some loose ends.

Shortly after Nok, Kall, and Akashii left as well, taking Sian's body with them to some troll village they knew of in Zangarmarsh, the land to the west of Hellfire Peninsula. Presumably from there they would return to Azeroth.

Alone now Tavian found that he had lost his taste for Thrallmar and Hellfire in general. It was a tainted place now. The red color of the sand and rocks reminded him of blood. Tamarack's words and his urgings came back to him, and he remembered that he was supposed to be heading for Shattrath. It loomed in his mind like some mystical oasis. Tamarack's niece was there. She could help him start over again. He could find new companions, new purpose. He found Tamarack's pendant in the bottom of his bag and finally tied it to a chord of leather and tied that in turn around his neck. It rested comfortably beneath his shirt.

Nazgrel told him that there was a druid outpost beyond the pass that marked the border of the marsh and Hellfire Peninsula. Tavian decided he would wear the pendant under his clothes until he reached them. It was less than a day's ride the orcs told him, but Jabbi was dead, killed in the Fel Reaver attack like many of the animals trapped in the stable. So he would have to go on foot, and that would take two days at least.

Two days alone in the wasteland with nothing to do but think. It sounded like a nightmare. At least he could stay one night at Falcon Post. There should be enough alcohol there to get his mind off things.

And that was that. Daggers at his sides, pack on his back Tavian struck out from Thrallmar one morning less than a week after the Fel Reaver attack, leaving the memories and the reconstruction behind him, traveling away on from his problems once again.


End file.
